Three Weeks
by poetif
Summary: "They say that's how long it takes to break a bad habit or form a good one. If she can be half in love with the man in that short amount of time, then she can stop thinking about him on that same time table." It's me so of course it's E/O with I think is good case file thrown in. Heed the ratings (mostly T but some M thrown in) and don't be scared to review!
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: **_The original SVU characters belong to Dick Wolf & NBC Universal. I've just borrowed them for entertainment purposes only. _The story is all mine though, so I hope you enjoy it. Feel free to let me know in a review or fifty…lol.

She'll probably never admit it but she loves watching animal stories on the Science Channel. It's _humans_ she's done trying to figure out so, she's moved on to being educated about various other species.

One of the network's shows did a special on the octopus touting it as, "The world's most intelligent invertebrate."

They placed one of the eight tentacled beasts in a plexiglass tank. It was challenged with retrieving a fish from a complicated container with multiple lids. Each one opened in a different way. And no matter how they turned the container, the octopus _always_ found a way inside.

Olivia feels the same way about her former partner. No matter how she tried to keep Elliot out, he kept finding his way in. It's been awhile since she's thought about him-them really-nearly two years. She doesn't have close friends like that anymore.

Because of her hours and work schedule those she had in college have now fallen into the _acquaintance_ category.

Anyone she has a drink with every once in awhile are usually like her. They work in some way, shape, form or fashion within the criminal justice system.

She wants…something or _someone _that has nothing to do with the darkness she sees everyday. She wants a reason to do simple things like remember how to smile, take pleasure in the silliness of a water fight or watch a slapstick comedy.

Twenty years on the same job and not nearly enough vacations from it. If police work in and of itself is stressful, then her work in Special Victims can be down right traumatic. Fortunately, she's found new allies in Amaro and Rollins for the war they fight every day.

But, she's…tired.

Olivia is headed for burnout and she knows it.

Too many times her captain has had to _make_ her take time off knowing she was running herself ragged or God forbid see Huang or some other shrink.

But, not this time.

This time it was some asshole who managed to get a round off into her left shoulder before she put two in his chest.

It was a clean shoot if you can ever call having someone else's blood on your hands clean. And yeah, he was a murdering bastard who had tried to kill her but…still.

When you take someone else's life, as much as they may have deserved it, a righteous person will feel bad for it.

Her room is cold, impersonal and smells like antiseptic as all hospital rooms do. The vertical blinds are open revealing an overcast day, a clear reflection of the dismal turn her life has taken as of late.

The usual parade of people has been there to see her. Cragen, Munch, Fin, Alex and Casey have all been by. Nick and Amanda too. She held out an ounce of hope that David would visit. But she knows how it would've looked. And she can't believe she made the same mistake with Cassidy. She's glad _he _hasn't stopped in. He did send flowers though.

Bayard Ellis' visit was a pleasant surprise. He's become a good friend and confidant even though she was pissed at him for awhile for blowing up things between her and David. But seeing as though her list of friends is a short one, Olivia decided to forgive him.

She's even managed to make it to a couple of the softball games he coaches for his daughter. It was theraputic for her, coming into contact with children who, to her knowledge, hadn't been victimized.

Sometimes she wishes her mother had had the inclination, the time or was sober long enough for her to have been involved in such carefree social activities. Wishful thinking on her part.

Being shot for the first time apparently lends oneself to introspection. Only Olivia can't stand to look for too long. The thought of a long successful career is great. She loves what she does, she knows she's good at it and every now and then she feels like it makes a difference in somebody's life.

But what does she truly have to show for it?

She's not a crier. There are times when she gets choked up over a rare happy ending like Jeannie's or when she feels emotionally overwhelmed by a case but she rarely openly weeps. She hasn't allowed herself that release since…well…since _he _left.

Warm tears moisten her cheeks now. If she had to venture a guess she'd say she was crying for herself, her life.

She _did_ almost die today.

And though all of her work colleagues would be in attendance at her funeral, she knows none of those people really know her well enough-love her enough-to know how she'd want things.

She's lying in the hospital with a hole in her chest, blessed to be still among the living and she's crying because there'd be no one to plan her funeral. Pitiful.

Olivia wipes angrily at her face, ashamed at the pathetic thoughts her most recent brush with death has left her with.

She takes a deep painful breath and tries to think about something else like what she's going to do with three weeks of forced vacation. Fortunately the pain medication doesn't leave her with the desire or the energy for prolonged rumination or self pity. Her eyelids fall heavy and she soon falls asleep.

It's how he finds her an hour into her slumber.

She's beautiful he thinks but he's always known that. Many a suspect, perp or fellow cop had been none too happy to make him aware. Everyone was always a little bit in love with her. Him more than anyone though it's something he could never admit to himself until recently, let alone say aloud.

He was married, and even after he'd signed the divorce papers, they just hadn't worked that way. Both, he believes were too chicken-shit at the thought of screwing with their partnership. Lord knows how things would have gone if Tucker got a mere whiff of them being anything more than what they were.

When he'd heard Olivia had been shot, it was all he could do not to track the bastard down himself and kill him. However in true Olivia Benson fashion, she'd already taken care of the problem.

With everything in him that needed to make a clean break, those same parts equally had a visceral need to make sure she was okay for himself.

He moves the few steps to her bed to take her in. Her naturally golden skin is now pallid. Olivia's hair seems longer, wavier than he remembers with various honey-brown streaks. And, there are very small worry lines on her forehead as her face contorts with whatever disturbing dreams she's having.

"No," she moans.

Elliot wants to wake her but doesn't know if seeing _him_ would be better or worse than the images bombarding her nightmares.

"Don't," she continues.

Olivia begins to stir more and he notices her chest rising and falling quicker than it had mere seconds ago. Her heart monitor reflects her agitation as it begins to beep erratically.

A short, middle aged African-American woman in colorful scrubs comes into the room just as Olivia's eyes pop open scanning her surroundings. Her badge says _Regina H., RN_.

"I think she was having a nightmare," he says, so Regina doesn't think he's the source of her irregular heart beat.

Olivia looks at Elliot as if she's seeing a ghost which does nothing to calm her. Her brow is sweaty and her eyes are wide with surprise for a moment before recognizing her visitor. She fists the bleached sheets of her bed, her lips are slightly parted and her eyebrows are knit in confusion while her breaths come in rapid succession.

"I think it would be best if you left sir," the nurse advises.

Elliot takes two steps towards the door when she stops him.

"No," Olivia rasps before clearing her throat. "Stay."

"You should really be resting detective," informs Regina. "You haven't been too long out of surgery."

Her heartbeat and her respiration gradually return to normal as she focuses on breathing steadily.

"I'm fine…really," she tells the nurse as she calms herself.

"Okay," the nurse says. "But first," she begins. Regina takes Olivia's vitals, makes sure her I.V. is adequate and ensures her machines' numbers are in a normal range. "Hit your button if you need anything," she concludes, eying Elliot with suspicion before leaving.

And then there were two.

Olivia wants him to leave and stay all at the same time. It's been months and despite her present circumstances, she's doing just fine without him.

But, in order to be a successful detective you have to be damned nosey. And Olivia's curiosity as to what's brought him to her after such a long period of time is the only reason that she has yet to kick him out.

Elliot takes hesitant steps towards her bed. He stands next to her with both hands stuffed into his front jeans pockets, eying his sneakers and avoiding eye contact like a child about to be scolded. Periodically he looks at the door as if memorizing it's location in case he needs to make a swift exit.

Olivia takes a moment to look him over. His eyes are less haunted and he doesn't appear to be missing any workouts. And the ridiculous Hawaiian shirt he's wearing tells her he's taking life a lot less seriously these days. It must be nice.

"What are you doing here," she asks, breaking the silence of the moment. Olivia combs her fingers through her hair before simply resting her hands over her stomach.

He takes a breath like she's asked him some complicated question. Elliot finally raises his eyes to hers and it looks like he's struggling with something.

"I-I just wanted to make sure that you were okay," he explains.

"No calls, no emails, no text messages," she begins. "Why do you care all the sudden?"

Elliot is trying to remember that they are no longer partners and he doesn't have to worry about saying something inappropriate or something that will change their dynamic. He wants for once, to say what he's feeling instead of over thinking it.

"Don called when you were in surgery," he informs her. "I was worried…scared."

Olivia doesn't know what to do with that. The man that stands before her can't be the same person who hated to discuss his feelings, his fears. Curiosity gets the better of her again wanting to know all the other ways he's different.

"Well as you can see," she begins. "Rumors of my demise were greatly exaggerated."

He transfers his weight from one leg to the other and scratches behind his ear before giving her a small smile.

"How long are you out for," he asks, changing the subject.

"Three weeks," she responds. "Then three more for ass duty before I have to re-qualify on the range," she says, taking an exasperating breath. "How've _you_ been," she asks, studying him for other nuances.

"Better now that I know that you're okay," he answers, holding her gaze.

She knits her eyebrows together to peer at him like he's suddenly grown a second head. All of his touchy feely honesty is confusing the hell out of her.

"Thanks but," she begins. "I mean with everything that happened," she clarifies.

"You're laying there with a hole in your shoulder asking how I'm doing," he tells her. "Some things never change."

"A lot has," she quips back.

Elliot looks away again, crossing his arms over his chest. He takes a breath and looks at her for a minute, then gives her the hint of a smile.

"I'm good," he tells her finally answering her question.

They both eye each other with a strange mix of familiarity and newness. Neither of them are the people they were when he left. Elliot seems to be softer and Olivia seems to be harder.

"I should've come before now," he says hurriedly.

"Elliot-

"No. I could've come to you-talked to you _long_ before today," he babbles on. "Things shouldn't have ended for us the way they did."

She thought she'd be pissed when she saw him again. The short note he sent her with his replica badge couldn't have been a worse goodbye. But she's over it.

"Twelve years is a long time to be in each other's lives," she tells him. "It would've been nice to talk about it," she admits.

"Retiring wasn't something I felt I had a choice in doing," he reasons. "But it didn't involve you."

Olivia feels dizzy all the sudden, nauseous as her mouth hangs slightly open. Then she clamps it shut so tight her jaw muscles ache.

"Bullshit," she tells him trying to remain calm. "If it affected you it affected me, we were partners."

"I had to do it," he says adamantly. "You know what I was up against," he adds letting a bit of his old self come through.

"And you knew the same about me Elliot," she says as her heart monitor shows a slight elevation.

"What are you talking about," he asks taking the chair next to the bed, leaning towards her.

"A year and a half ago I had this job and you along with it," she begins. "No real family, _you_ were my best friend and the kids I love just so happen to be yours," she confesses as her eyes suddenly moisten. "You knew all that and it didn't stop you from acting like a selfish asshole."

Elliot was aware that severing their partnership would hurt her because it'd done the same to him. He just hadn't realized how much until now.

"I don't mean putting in your papers," she continues. "You put in your time. You deserved that," taking breaths to stave off her tears. She refuses to cry in front of him, _because_ of him. "I mean leaving me out of the loop," she adds, looking anywhere but at him.

"You're right," he tells her. "But I knew if I talked to you-if I'd so much as seen your face that I wouldn't be able to make that decision," he asserts. "The thought of someone else being your partner and watching your back was something that I didn't want to deal with," he continues. "Actually talking to you about it would make it real," he rasps. "I didn't want it to be real." he concludes in a near whisper.

She reaches up to swipe away at a rogue tear running down her cheek when his hand stops her. Elliot reaches over and takes her other hand. It's so warm and the sudden touch is a surprise as he gets up to lean over her.

He wipes the tear away with the pad of his thumb letting his hand linger on her face. It's not something any of their previous hospital visits have ever included.

"I'm sorry," he rasps, just inches away from her face. Even though she deserved those words from him, Olivia had resolved herself to the fact that she'd likely never hear his voice again.

There are two knocks at the door before Regina walks in.

"I'm sorry but visiting hours are over," she tells them. Feeling like she's interrupted a moment, she quietly backs out of the room.

Elliot never releases her hand or removes his from her cheek. He leans over placing a chaste kiss on her forehead. Olivia closes her eyes in response.

"I should go," he tells her, releasing her to stand up. "You need to rest."

"Right," she tells him, unable to come up with anything more intelligible. "Okay."

He squeezes her hand and then takes the few steps to the door.

"Bye Liv," he says, using her nickname for the first time since entering her room.

"Bye El," she responds, doing the same.

With the closing of the door she allows the tears to fall freely. They are for them, what they had and what she foolishly thought would last until they were old and gray.

Olivia's learned her lesson. No matter how much they try, no one else is going to get in. It hurts too damned much when they leave.

**Well, well…what'd ya think? **


	2. Chapter 2

She loves the fall. The changing of the leaves in Central Park, an occasional Sunday night football game at her local sport's bar, hot apple cider and seeing kids dressed in their cute little costumes for Halloween.

School semesters have begun at various colleges in the area and those that hated high school get to start anew.

She wants that for _her_ life.

A reload.

But Olivia has no idea how to go about getting it so she settles for a little fall cleaning. Or, at least as much as she can get done with her arm in a sling to limit the stress to her shoulder. They let her out after a couple of days with strict instructions about doing as little as possible. Yeah, right.

She's put all her summer clothes into those Space Bags from the infomercials. Her heavy coats have been sent to the cleaners in preparation for colder weather, her apartment's never been more dust or dirt free and she's stocked her refrigerator with actual food.

Going stir crazy is an understatement as to how she feels about not being allowed back at work. Her to do list is now done and then some.

Perhaps a shopping trip to add to her fall wardrobe will help curb her boredom.

With her arm in a sling, a flirty little dress is out of the question. It doesn't exactly scream sexy. So, she opts for dark wash blue jeans that hug her curves, a satin patterned cream blouse with a green velvet blazer and some brown wedged boots. It'll do for her day out.

No matter how many times she's been, she's always enjoyed the eclectic atmosphere of The Village.

The area has independently owned mom and pop shops as well as modern chain stores. There a multitude of cafes, restaurants and wine bars. And Olivia's seen more than one pair of boots that'd require a lot of overtime at her favorite shoe spot. She has to remind herself that carrying a lot of bags isn't an option at the moment. It's the only thing that stops her _and_ saves her plastic from the abuse.

After several hours of window shopping and buying easy to carry items, she decides to pop into a bookstore café for hot cider. Olivia spots a title she's been meaning to purchase and grabs it to peruse while she rests.

She sighs heavily after sitting down, dropping the meager purchases at her feet. A waitress soon appears taking her drink order before leaving her alone again.

Not soon after she leaves does a tall man with green eyes and blonde curly hair approach Olivia. He looks to be about fifteen years her junior. She's never been into younger men so she vows to send him away as nicely as she's able.

"Hi I'm Matthew," he tells her. "Do you mind if I sit?"

"Actually I do," she says, giving him a polite smile. "I'm not looking for conversation at the moment," she adds honestly.

"Will you be looking for one later," he asks, giving her a ten thousand watt grin.

"Probably not," she tells him. "But thanks anyway."

"Come on," he persists. "Do you know how much courage it took for me to walk over here," he asks, trying the pity angle.

"That's very cute," she says. "And I'm sure it usually works," she admits. "But not today okay," she tells him.

"One coffee," he presses.

Then, as if by some miracle from heaven Elliot appears. He saunters right over to her, leans down and kisses her on the cheek.

"Sorry it took so long parking the car babe," he tells her. "I had to circle the block three times before I found a spot," he explains. "Who's this," he asks, nodding once in Matthew's direction.

"Oh, that's-"

"I'm nobody it was nice meeting you," Matthew says quickly before slinking back off to whatever corner of the bookstore he appeared from. Elliot was always like "man repellent" when he was around. _Today_ she actually appreciates it.

"Babe," Olivia says, raising an eyebrow.

"Hey he didn't sound like he wanted to take no for an answer," he explains sitting down in an adjacent chair, one of his knees touching one of hers.

"I could've handled him you know," she tells him, unwilling to let on that she's actually glad he took care of it.

Olivia still has the same instincts as when they were partners. Telling him she can do things herself, that she's fine, that things are okay are all second nature to her, especially when they're anything but.

"I know," he says smirking a bit. "But my way was quicker," he tells her waiving over the barista.

"So you stalking me now or what?"

The young lady appears again to give Olivia her drink order and take Elliot's before disappearing again.

"No, I'm not," he responds. "I just left Kathleen and Elizabeth after several hours of them trying to run through my pension in one day," he explains.

She smiles at his obvious frustration.

"Teenage daughters will do that for you," she tells him, grinning before taking a sip of her drink.

"Right. Well I saw you in the window, told them I wanted to say hi to someone and that I'd take the subway home," he explains.

"So you used me as your escape plan," she asks, raising an eyebrow.

"And I'm not the least bit ashamed," he says taking his drink from the waitress. "I love 'em to death but they were driving me nuts."

Olivia gives him one of those smiles that says, "Good for them". Her facial expression tells him he deserves more than a hit to his wallet. Perhaps a gut punch.

"So how's the shoulder," he asks moving the conversation away from him.

"It's getting better," she informs him. "Stitches come out in about a week but they itch like mad," she adds garnering a grin from him. "I don't know how you dealt with being shot as many times as you were."

"Painkillers helped," he tells her. "But I can't say I never popped a couple stitches ignoring the doctor's orders."

She gasps dramatically to feign surprise.

"You, Elliot Stabler, going against someone's orders, say it ain't so," she says with a hand over her mouth in shock.

"Go ahead and yuck it up," he responds. "Like you aren't every bit is hardheaded," he claims. "I'm almost positive you aren't supposed to be strolling through Greenwich Village shopping," he offers, gesturing at her purchases. "You're probably not even supposed to leave your apartment."

Her face while usually a mask for stoicism is blushing because he's right. The sucky part is, he knows it.

When Elliot sees her expression, he sits back, crosses his legs and takes a self satisfying sip from his coffee.

"Cocky bastard," she tells him. "I can see you haven't changed a bit," she comments.

At that the smile leaves his face, he sits up and leans just that much closer to Olivia.

"I've changed some," he expresses. "How could I not," he asks, not needing to mention their severed partnership and him leaving a job he'd had for nearly half the time he's been alive.

Elliot holds her eyes for a moment, letting her see just how much it took out of him to hand in his papers. The shooting he got through. Finding something else to do with the other half of his life may have taken more.

"So how's retirement treating you," she asks, having to look away from everything his eyes reflect.

Olivia has always known better than to look for long. It's always made her want to reach out and touch him.

From the time he hugged her after Eli was born until he left, she's only ever reached for him once-the day Sonja was murdered.

It was the one time she allowed herself to need him and the way Elliot held on to her, he didn't disappoint. Pulling herself away after feeling such a visceral need was damned near impossible.

But as always, she got it together and let him go. He wasn't hers to hold.

"Just trying to keep busy I guess," he answers. "They say the number one killer of retirees is retirement," he adds. "Between Eli and my two youngest girls, I'd have to agree."

"But no more calls at all hours of the day and night, no more standing over dead bodies, no more making victim notifications to hopeful parents, no more of Munch's bad coffee or long nights with me instead of your wife," she tells him, counting off each with a raised finger on her uninjured side. "Poor baby," she adds smirking before sipping her hot cider.

He lets her gloat for about two seconds before responding.

"And no more getting justice for the victims, no more feeling the satisfaction from the cases we actually won, no more of the day to day camaraderie with the people who became my second family, no more seeing the faces of parents who had the fortune of _good_ news and no more long nights with you instead of my _ex_-wife," he concludes, watching as the smile leaves her face.

First he shows up in her hospital room to see her and apologizes for the way he ended things, now this.

He just said he's divorced. If he expects Olivia to process this information rapidly, he's going to be in for a major disappointment.

"I'm sorry, what," she asks, nearly choking on her drink.

"Which part?"

"The last sentence," she responds, placing her cider on the table.

"Kathy and I called it quits," he informs her. "For good. No separation, legal or otherwise. Divorced."

"I'm sorry Elliot," she tells him. "You never mentioned having any trouble, not that you would've told me anything. Eli was always your favorite subject when we weren't discussing work," she reminds him.

He rubs his hands over his thighs, stopping at his knees. It was then she noticed that he wasn't in fact, wearing his wedding ring. He didn't even have a tan line. She'd missed that when he'd visited her in the hospital. But, then again his hands were stuffed into his pockets. _Then_, they were on her at which point she wasn't focused on what was missing, but what was there…his touch.

"What happened," she asks earnestly.

"I wasn't the easiest person to live with when I had a reason to leave the house every day," he admits.

She remembers saying to him, _"She should try working with you." _when he used this reasoning during the legal separation.

"Between the frustrating hoops the brass wanted me to jump through after Jenna's shooting, my all but forced retirement and suddenly having way too much time on my hands, I was more of an asshole than usual," he explains.

Olivia's mouth opens and closes several times before deciding to just listen because she has no idea what to say.

"We tried couple's therapy, one-on-one therapy and counseling at our parish," he continues. "All we came away with was shrink bills and the understanding that we loved one another but had just grown into different people."

"What about Eli," she asks picking up her drink again.

"We were able to come up with a good schedule," he tells her. "It's been about a year so it's working for us. Everyone seems well adjusted."

"Wow a year," she exhales. "And you're looking pretty well adjusted yourself," she acknowledges, hoping it didn't sound like a come-on.

"Thanks Liv," he says. "And minus the sling you're looking good too," he compliments, giving her a smile.

Olivia can't help but return the gesture and feel a bit of the comfortableness they had as partners come back.

Yet she knows for all the time they've been apart and the way that he left, that things can't continue to be so easy going. But at least they're talking. At least he's there to talk with.

As good as it feels she can't help waiting for the other shoe to drop. Olivia has been left anything but unscathed by her life and those that have been in and out of it. She's skeptical, uneasy and her former partner has a little something to do with that.

Her beeping watch distracts them from one another.

"What's that for," he asks, knitting his eyebrows together.

"Time to take my pain meds," she informs him. "I need to get home and eat something first though," she tells him. "It'll probably be lights out after that, they really do me in."

"I think they left me enough money to eat with," he says to her. "If you don't mind me joining you we could get something close by," he offers.

"Um, okay," she responds hesitantly. "Let me pay for this book and I'll be right back."

When she returns he's holding her packages and looks at her like she's crazy when she tells him to hand them over.

Olivia tucks the new purchase in her purse and they walk out together, him holding the door for her.

"So what sounds good to you," he asks as they maneuver around other pedestrians.

"Why don't you pick."

"You know I'm easy Liv," he says. "But the Tribeca Grill sounds good," he suggests.

"Let's do it."

Sooner hopefully rather than later maybe Elliot will tell her why he's decided to grace her life with his presence once again. Perhaps he needs that kidney after all.

"And then you can tell me what I've missed out on since we've been apart," he missteps. "I mean since I retired."

Jeez. He made it sound like they had broken up or something.

Maybe instead of dying, she fell through Alice's rabbit hole into an alternate universe. The Mad Hatter is sure to show up sooner or later.


	3. Chapter 3

"I'm sorry Liv," he says. "Talk about your mixed blessings," he continues. "You find out you have a niece named after you but then Simon goes to jail?"

"Yeah," she acknowledges. "All that pretty much happened in the same week."

Olivia's taken her meds, they've finished eating and they're continuing to get reacquainted.

"Anything else I should know," he asks. "You didn't go and get married or anything did you?"

Her first thought is of David and all that could've been between them. Her career has been great for her professional life but a serious drawback for her personal one.

She's suddenly quiet.

Elliot's seen the loss of color in her face and knows he's stuck his foot in his mouth for the millionth time since he's known her.

"What is it, what's wrong," he asks, edging closer to her in their out of the way booth.

"There was someone," she reflects, in a melancholy voice. "A genuinely good man but as usual, the job got in the way," she tells him with a sad smile.

"You deserve to be happy Liv. I'm sorry it didn't work out."

He places a warm hand over hers giving it a squeeze before letting it go.

"Me too," she rasps in response.

"Your meds are gonna' kick in soon," he advises her. "I should probably be getting you home."

"What do you mean you," she asks with raised eyebrows.

"You don't think I'm gonna let my favorite partner get into some stranger's cab loopy on painkillers now do you," he asks rhetorically as he gets the attention of a passing waiter for the check.

She's beginning to feel the effects of the drugs and if anyone can be tasked with getting her home safely, it's him.

"Ex-partner", she corrects. "And how did _I _become your favorite?"

"Simple," he says signing for his card. "You put up with me during Elliot Stabler: The Asshole Years," he quips, bringing a silly grin to her face.

"So basically I'm your favorite because I put up with you the longest," she asks with knitted eyebrows.

"Of course not," he tells her, gathering her bags. "But if I told you anything else you wouldn't believe me," he says grinning.

"You're so full of it," she tells him as they walk out together.

Elliot hails a taxi for them and opens the door for Olivia when it stops. She smiles to herself when he gives him her address from memory.

By the time they get to her apartment building, Olivia's head is resting comfortably against Elliot's shoulder.

He hates having to wake her once he feels the car roll to a stop.

"Liv we're here," he tells her lightly tapping her thigh. She's never been a heavy sleeper so she awakens immediately.

After the cabbie gets paid, they both get out. Olivia's still wobbly from her meds so Elliot holds the packages and her purse in one hand and puts an arm around her with the other trying to avoid her injured shoulder.

She leans against the wall as he uses the emergency key he still has to open her apartment door. Olivia debates in her mind whether to ask for it back. Maybe after she's thinking lucidly again.

Once inside he sets the packages on the floor next to her sofa as she lies down. He takes her boots off and removes the throw from the back of the couch to lay it over her.

"Did you just tuck me in," she asks with another silly grin on her face.

"Yeah-I guess I did," he tells her shrugging his shoulders. "I'm gonna go and let you get some rest."

"Okay," she says groggily. "Thanks El," she manages before her eyes slip shut.

He kisses her on the cheek before looking around for a pad and pen.

When Olivia wakes up several hours later she shakes the cobwebs out her head from the meds, puts her packages away and goes to the kitchen for her lunch leftovers.

She sees the note Elliot's left her, pinned to the refrigerator with a little magnet.

_Liv, _

_I had fun today. Hope to see you again soon. My new number is at the bottom,_

_El_

She's tempted to call him just to see if he'll actually pick up the phone. The last time she dialed a number hoping to hear his voice on the other end, she was repeatedly let down. First her calls went straight to voicemail, and then the number was disconnected altogether.

If it weren't for the leftovers she was munching on at the moment, she might think that hanging out with him today was just some medication induced hallucination.

Still.

He wouldn't leave her his number if he didn't want to hear from her. She _could_ just send him a simple text message.

Olivia feels ridiculous. She's not sixteen years old for goodness sakes and he's not the star quarterback.

_Thx 4 lunch. Hd a gud time 2. Liv._

There. A simple text message to an old friend.

Olivia finishes up the leftovers for dinner, cleans up and heads off to shower and change.

It's only a bit after 8pm but she's not going anywhere else so her pajamas are fair game.

When she goes back to the kitchen for a drink of water she notices her cell phone left on the counter has a new text message.

It's from Elliot.

**Received - 7:50pm**

_Yr welcome. Wht r u doing 2mrw?_

What is she doing tomorrow? Why is he so interested?

It's not like he hasn't known where she's worked and lived all this time. Even if he didn't want to come to the station to see her, neither her work nor her cell numbers have changed. There's only one way to find out why he's suddenly so intrigued about her days.

_Nothing planned. Y?_

If she still knows him the way that she always has, he'll want to take her to a baseball game or something, eat some hotdogs and drink some beer. He was always comfortably predictable that way.

_Rain 2mrw. Movies at yr place?_

Sitting together in the dark, on her sofa, watching several hours of movies. She has to say she didn't expect it from him.

_K. I chuz flix. U pick food?_

She was not going to endure a night of gratuitous explosions, car races or hometown boy turned sports hero by letting Elliot choose.

_Sounds good. 7pm?_

_C u then._

Yeah. Then perhaps he'll tell her why it's taken nearly two years to get the desire to see her face.

She feels insane for going back and forth between saying "screw him" and wanting to see _his_.

Shit.

She had _not_ thinking about him, down to a workable schedule. Initially she was thinking of him every minute, then every hour and then only every day. Most recently it's just been every once in awhile until someone says something that reminds her of him.

Olivia started introducing Nick as her partner instead of saying she was merely training him and she'd almost stopped comparing the two men in her head.

Thoughts like "_Elliot wouldn't do it like that, Elliot wouldn't say it like that or Elliot wouldn't go about it that way_", had finally stopped popping into her mind during interrogations or while talking to a witness or victim.

She's learned Nick's ways aren't wrong, they just aren't Elliot's and that that's okay.

She has also recognized that she'll never have to worry about that sexual tension with Nick nor he with her. The chemistry that existed between her and Elliot from day one just isn't there with Nick. It was one more thing that made it harder for her to let go of Elliot, but she had.

Though Nick may not feel it, Olivia is beginning to trust him. He's already proven himself by saving her life. And, they've already shared a secret by letting a dying Jillian Webster take a murder wrap for her daughter Hannah. He really is a good partner. He can be judgmental at times but she can live with that.

She'd moved on and then she got shot. Damn it. Now she's right back to square one, thinking about her ex-partner…constantly.

Olivia's plan was something like this: Get her stitches out next week, ride the desk for another three before having to re-qualify with her weapon and then back to business as usual. What's that quote about the best laid plans? Oh yeah, they often go astray. Such an understatement.

After watching mind numbing television for several hours and eating a pint of rum raisin at 2am she decides she's given him way too much of her time and heads to bed.

At 8am she's back up exchanging her pj's for something to run around Central Park in…guilt from the ice cream and all that.

She eats breakfast when she returns, showers and runs errands that include a follow-up appointment with her doctor. The day goes by quickly and before she knows it she hears two knocks at her front door.

"Hey," Elliot says. "I hope Chinese is still okay," he tells her as she steps back to let him in.

He apparently forgot that it was going to be raining because both he and the food are nearly soaked.

"Yeah it's fine," she tells him. "Did you're umbrella blow away or do you just like to live dangerously," she jabs, removing the Styrofoam containers from the bags.

"I didn't think it would rain that hard," he explains. "And I wanted to get the food from that place you like down the street."

"That's sweet but I don't want you to get the flu because I like The Wok's lo mien," she tells him as he stands in her kitchen. "I'll go get a towel and see what I have in the way of dry clothes," she adds, disappearing into her bedroom. "Don't drip on my carpet. Stay in the kitchen!"

By the time she returns Elliot's hung his leather bomber on a nearby hook to dry. He's taken off his boots and found some old newspaper to sit them on. He has his socks and shirt hanging over an arm waiting for her.

Olivia's walking, talking and looking at the clothes she hope fits and doesn't notice until she's standing directly in front of him.

He is in his stocking feet, the jeans he wears low on his waist are clinging to his thighs and his chest is bare.

She's seen him shirtless more than a few times. But, it's the first time her fingertips have itched to get his skin underneath them. He'd always been Elliot the partner or the married guy. Now he's the man making her heart beat faster and her mouth water. It must be the length of time it's been since last she saw him. Or at least that's what she's telling herself.

Luckily for her the synapses in her brain are firing fast enough to remember that they don't touch. Though with the way Elliot's eyes have gotten all glossy and his lips are slightly parted, maybe he's forgotten too.

"Here you go," she says, handing him the well worn NYPD t-shirt and sweat pants. "You can change in my bedroom."

"Thanks," he tells her as they exchange wet clothes for dry ones. "I'll be back in a sec," he continues, sliding past her in the small space and into the living room. She puts his wet things in her dryer before returning to the kitchen.

Olivia goes about throwing the saturated bags away, transferring some food into bowls and grabbing forks and drinks. Anything to remind herself that he's only here because she needs to know what he wants. He is the man that hurt her, that ignored her like she didn't matter, that caused her many tear filled nights.

Elliot returns to the living room looking much more comfortable and a lot less wet.

"Where can I put these to dry," he asks, standing on the other side of the counter with his wet jeans in hand.

"There's a small dryer just behind that door," she points out. "I've already put everything else in there."

"I know the shirt's yours," he begins, when he returns from the small laundry alcove. "But do I wanna know who the sweats belong to," he asks.

"Probably not," she answers smirking. "Let's eat," she says, grabbing a plate to sample the several menu items he's brought for her.

All her favorites are in the bag. She moans tasting the orange chicken, immediately garnering Elliot's attention. Perhaps she should move her stool further away from his.

"Good huh," he says, continuing to fork his beef and broccoli.

"Yeah," she responds, biting her bottom lip and nodding. "Very."

"Glad to think I still know you well enough to get something right," he tells her, quickly sliding his gaze to her lips before returning them to her eyes. But not before she's noticed.

Did he really just do that? Olivia has to get her head back into the game but the way he's acting is starting to unnerve her.

"So you come to see me in the hospital, you buy me lunch and…tuck me in," Olivia begins. "And here we are having dinner," she continues. "I've seen you more this last week and a half than I have in the last year and a half," she points out.

"And," he draws out, suddenly finding his food more interesting.

Olivia can tell he's nervous. About what she has no clue but she finds it intriguing to say the least.

"My point or rather my question is why now," she asks bluntly. "I'm just as easy to get in touch with today as I was when we were partners," she tells him. "You didn't contact me and you couldn't be bothered to return any of my messages."

She sees his wheels turning and gives him a minute to get things together.

"When Don called me…I had a feeling it was bad the minute I saw his number flash across my caller I.D.," he begins. Of course _Cragen_ has his new number. "Then…he said you'd been shot," he continues. "If it wasn't a serious injury I knew he wouldn't have bothered."

"Okay, so you came to check on me. Fine," she tells him. "What else," she asks, feeling his explanation so far is lacking.

"By the time I'd gotten myself together, I felt like I'd waited too long and with-not returning your calls I didn't think you'd want to talk to…or see me," he begins. "But after that phone call I didn't care. I needed to see…that you were okay for myself."

Elliott lays his fork down and pushes his plate away. He turns on his stool to face her, his hands in his lap.

"I know it was selfish but if anything were to happen to you…the way things ended between us," he continues. "So…unfinished. I couldn't take that," he adds in a lower tone.

Olivia too pushes her plate away, facing him leaning one arm on the counter and resting the other in her lap.

"So this is you…what…trying to get the friendship we had back," she asks in a less than happy tone. "One that didn't have to end in the first place?"

"I-I realized that too late," he acknowledges. "I know I'm taking liberties with the fact that you even _want_ me in your life," he continues. "And I know I have to earn your trust again. But I hope you decide to give me a chance."

Olivia's great at holding grudges and she can express anger just as well as he can, but she's considering letting months of pain trump the years of friendship they shared.

She has two choices: 1. Work on forgiving him and give him the chance he's asking for or, 2. Kick him out of her apartment and tell him she never wants to see his sorry ass again.

"When Cragen told me you put your papers in," she begins, clasping her hands in her lap. She's never discussed this with anyone. "I didn't take that well," she admits. "In fact I don't think I cried that hard when my mom died," she confesses in a broken voice.

Elliot reaches for her hand but she holds them up to stop him.

"Please let me finish," she tells him, taking a breath. "Though we had our issues, I was your partner for twelve years Elliot," she says. "Even if you thought I'd talk you out of it, I deserved to have that conversation," she continues. "I deserved better than to be ignored."

He squeezes his hands over his knees in an attempt to keep from reaching for her again. It's his first instinct when she's in pain. He just isn't used to being the cause.

"I'm s-

"I know you're sorry," Olivia finishes for him. "And I know how little we've said that to one another over the years so I appreciate it," she tells him as her eyes redden. "But it doesn't change the fact that you treated me like our partnership, our friendship didn't matter."

Olivia doesn't even think before the next words fall from her lips.

"You hurt me," she confesses as her chin trembles, letting him see the truth of it in her eyes.

Elliot stands then, pulling her body to his. He holds on to her fiercely, just as he did in the hospital corridor when Sonja was murdered. This time he knows she's not okay and it's _his_ fault. He whispers apologies in her ear repeatedly.

For her part Olivia holds onto Elliot the same way, even if it is just with one arm. Her body shudders against his as she let's the tears flow unrestricted where usually she wouldn't want anyone seeing them. She couldn't help but go when he pulled her into him. As good as David was to her, for her…she needed _this_.

She doesn't know what kind of sessions he sat through but, having Elliot there to confess how she felt about his unexpected departure is Olivia's therapy.

"What can I do Liv," he rasps, with his cheek against hers. "I broke this," he begins, clearly affected by the situation. "Please tell me how to fix it."

Olivia loosens her hold on him, and then releases him completely. Her eyes are downcast. She doesn't know what to tell him, doesn't know what will help her forgive him. Sincerely, she thought she had, that she was done crying. Then she saw him and it was a reminder that she has a _new_ partner and Elliot's absence is the reason.

He. Left.

Elliot takes her pulling away from him as rejection. He puts one hand on his hip and rubs his forehead with the other.

"I'm gonna' go then," he tells her, stepping away from the counter. "I'll just get my clothes later," he adds, heading for the door.

And suddenly Olivia feels like if she lets him walk out, she'll likely never see him again. She's still hurt, still angry but that is _not_ what she wants. Elliot is clearly in just as much pain as she is. It has to mean something.

"El wait," she says before clearing her throat, as he puts on his jacket. "There's all this food and…I don't really want to watch these movies alone," she tells him.

"Are you sure," he asks with raised eyebrows. Elliot holds his breath waiting for what seems an eternity to him before she answers.

"Yeah," Olivia says, meeting his eyes giving him a small smile. "They're horror movies."

He slowly exhales, never taking his eyes off hers reflecting her smile as they return to the kitchen.

They eat in silence for the most part. Every now and again they say how good something is or give a side glance to one another. When they're done eating he helps her clean up before they retire to the sofa.

"So what am I gonna be having nightmares about," he begins. "Chainsaw wielding maniac, the undead walking the earth or some homicidal aliens," he asks.

Olivia shakes her head at how well they still know one another. Maybe they haven't changed as much as she'd originally thought.

"You'll see," she tells him, giving him no clues.

They sit a comfortable distance away from another as Olivia cuts the lights and the beginning credits appear on screen.

"Thank you," he tells her, as they get comfortable.

She looks over at him, giving him a small grin.

"Gotta start somewhere," she says, grabbing the remote control.

"Kick me out when you get tired," he tells her, realizing she'd taken her meds during dinner.

"You're not gonna tuck me in again," she asks, a combination of sleepiness and mirth in her voice.

"Hey don't pretend you didn't enjoy it," Elliot tells her. "I'm just glad I didn't have to read _Goodnight Moon _eight-hundred times before you fell asleep," he informs her reminded of times with his children.

"Mmm," she responds, noncommittally.

They've both been up for hours. Him with a morning routine with Eli and her with an early workout and errands. Neither of them makes it far into the opening scenes before sleep claims them.

Minutes turn into hours and before they realize it, the sun is creeping up over the horizon to bathe Olivia's living room in an orange glow.

It's a new day.

Throughout the evening Elliot and Olivia have moved. Lying on her back, the morning sunlight has awakened her. The television reflects a blue screen she wants to turn off but can't. As she becomes more aware Olivia realizes that Elliot is the reason.

His head is lying on her lower stomach; one hand is beneath her lower back while the other is resting against her upper thigh.

Olivia's legs seemed to have parted of their own accord to accommodate him. She's awakened in many different positions in her adult life. And normally a position such as this would constitute being part of "the morning after". Only, they didn't have a "night before".

Yet spending the night like this, sharing how he felt when Cragen told him she was shot and how she felt when he left, was more intimate than falling in bed in some lust filled frenzy of lips, sweat and limbs.

Usually when she falls asleep on her sofa she has to grab the blanket from the back of it to keep warm. Last night thanks to Elliot's body heat, she didn't need to. Waking up like this leaves her feeling protected, safe, and cared for.

Olivia takes a hand and rubs the side of his head and then the stubble that has grown over night to wake him.

"Morning," he says, looking up at her. "You were supposed to kick me out when you got too sleepy," he reminds her.

"Maybe I wanted you to stay," she tells him, rubbing her thumb against his face again. "So you could make me breakfast," she adds, smirking down at him.

He shakes his head at her, laughing as he retracts himself to sit up. Neither of them comments on the position they were in upon waking.

"As much as I'd love to," he begins. "I have to get Eli," he explains.

The two get up from the sofa, stretching and yawning. Olivia retrieves his clothes from her dryer handing them to him to change. He comes out of her bedroom minutes later.

"I left the shirt and sweats in your hamper," he informs. "I appreciate you loaning them to me."

"You're welcome," she says, standing from the sofa as he returns. He dons his shoes then jacket once he makes it to her front door. Olivia meets him there to walk him out.

"Thanks for the Chinese," she tells him. "It was good," she adds, standing there awkwardly as if ending a first date.

"Thank you for listening," Elliot says. "And letting me stay," he adds, putting a hand on her shoulder before leaning in and placing a chaste kiss to her cheek.

"You're welcome," Olivia says, as he opens the door. "I'll see you later."

Elliot nods and gives her a smile as he leaves. She feels it then.

They haven't just changed as individuals. How they are with one another seems to have shifted as well.

Maybe…


	4. Chapter 4

Elliot's been saying and doing all the right things since their night of Chinese food and scary movies. He's really trying to regain her trust and she's working on letting go of any residual negative feelings she has for him.

In spending the last two weeks with him Olivia's recognized that things _are_ different. She enjoys time with him without the pretense of a case.

Without the job or familial obligations coming between them, being with him is easy. Not that she's _with_ him. But…things are good.

Her stitches come out today and he's volunteered to drive her to the hospital for the procedure. Olivia insisted that it wasn't going to take long and that she'd be fine alone. Elliot reminded her that she was consistently at _his _hospital visits, so she gave in.

He said he wants to do something with her afterwards, something she's never done before. As many ways as there are to take that, Olivia doesn't think he means anything sexual by it. They've never exactly worked that way. But she's feeling a shift between them. If he initiated an intimate relationship with her, Olivia hasn't thought far ahead enough that she'd know what she'd do.

The idea unnerves her a bit so she tries to think of something else. It's Friday so she's lucky to have gotten her hair appointment and mani/pedi out of the way yesterday.

Grocery shopping had immediately followed because she managed to knock all the dust off the one cookbook she does own to find something doable.

Olivia has to admit. The time she's been off work has not been bad. She feels rested, her mood is positive more often than not and she hasn't hated reconnecting with her former partner. The time away from SVU has been just the renewal she needed.

The next time she takes a vacation, she's thinking no one will have to force her. It damned sure won't require her being shot before hand.

She knows that cooking is not something she makes a habit of doing but she wants to reward Elliot for sitting through her afternoon appointment. That and it's been awhile since she's had anyone to cook for.

Olivia marinated four chicken breasts in olive oil and various spices before putting them into the refrigerator last night. The rest of the meal won't take that long to prepare.

She's looking forward to surprising him. He doesn't realize that not having the time to cook and not being able to cook are two different things.

Olivia is also happy to be getting back to work on Monday. She's missed wearing her badge and the weight of her gun on her hip. She also misses her coworkers, the terrible coffee and just being in the squad room.

What she isn't excited for is the return to her hectic schedule. Olivia and Elliot are just getting reacquainted and she's afraid of what that'll mean for them. Even if she and Elliot just end up as they were, Olivia's happy to have him in her life again.

After blow drying her hair, applying make-up and getting dressed she takes out the chicken she'd left to marinate overnight. She hopes that it turns out as well as the recipe pictures looked.

A couple of hours later and her honey Dijon chicken smells wonderful. She'll reheat it later when she's making the asparagus and seasoned rice to go along with it.

When she hears two knocks on the door she looks at her watch. It's 12:30pm and he's right on time.

"Hey," she says opening the door to let him in. Olivia returns to the kitchen to put the chicken in the refrigerator until later.

"Hey yourself," he tells her, following her inside. "What smells so good," he asks, on her heels as she returns to the kitchen.

Elliot tries to open the fridge but Olivia steps in front of it stopping him.

"You'll find out later," she tells him. "If you're good," she adds, mocking him.

He raises an eyebrow at her knowing Olivia's making fun of him.

"Ha, ha," Elliot says. "I'm hungry," he whines.

She shakes her head at his pitiful antics, as she grabs her bag and heads for the door.

"Come on you big baby before you make me late," she tells him. "It's not my fault you didn't eat first."

It takes all of ten minutes to remove her stitches after her name is called. Prior to that Elliot had been sitting beside Olivia in the waiting room, fidgeting like a 6 year-old.

She doesn't understand how he could sit in a car for hours without moving _after_ drinking multiple cups of coffee, but a fifteen minute wait in the doctor's office killed him?

His face lit up like a fireworks display when she returned to the lobby.

"Ready," he asks, standing up.

"Yeah," she says, approaching him. "Maybe I'll show you my cool new scar later," she adds as they board the elevator.

"Really," he asks, giving her a mischievous grin.

"Down boy," she tells him, shaking her head. "It's not that exciting."

When they hit the ground floor they quickly find his sedan and he unsecures the alarm from his keychain.

"Because I was such a good girl and didn't cry," Olivia mocks, getting into the car. "What exactly do I get," she asks.

"First we're gonna stop for food because I'm nearly weak from hunger," he responds, starting the engine. "The rest is a surprise."

"I'm a cop remember," she says. "I don't like surprises."

"We'll just see about that," he answers, pulling away from the curb.

Several hours later after two hotdogs and two three lap races on a mini Grand Prix track, their stomachs lead them back to Olivia's apartment.

"Oh, quit pouting," she tells him, trying and failing to hold back her laughter as she opens the door.

"You let me take the wheel most of the time when we were partners," he reasons. "I didn't know you could even drive like that," he says, hanging his jacket on a coat hook.

"Sometimes I feel the need-the need for speed," she says, laughing as she lays her three replica NASCAR checkered flags on the coffee table.

"Did you really just quote Top Gun Liv," he asks, resting on her sofa.

"Hey it fits," she answers, entering the kitchen to turn on the oven.

"I think he gave you the faster car because he has a little crush on you," he excuses.

Olivia washes her hands, puts the chicken in the oven and puts a pot of water on the stove to boil.

"Never took you for a sore loser before Elliot," she tells him from the kitchen.

"I've been jealous, overprotective and downright surly," he begins. "What part of me being a sore loser is shocking?"

Olivia stops and thinks for two seconds before shrugging her shoulders. The man has a valid point.

"Why don't you make yourself useful and find some music I can listen to while I'm cooking," she says as she peeks her head out at him.

Elliot gets up looking for a radio before he realizes it was right in front of him. She has an mp3 player docked into a small boombox.

When he turns it on he peruses her musical selections for a minute. Some of it he's aware of from her tastes in radio stations from long stakeouts, others he senses have been added by someone other than Olivia.

Then he finds it.

Norah Jones, _Come Away With Me. _The unassuming stereo is surprisingly good at filling the room with clear, crisp sound.

Olivia has played that song a million times. It's one of her absolute favorites. It gives her a slow, flirtatious smile and makes her think of making love as a rainstorm rages outside her window. The melody inspires visions of carefree Saturdays walking in the park and lazy Sundays in bed. She's always loved it.

After a couple of songs, the seasoned rice is finished so she turns it down to a low simmer. The asparagus bakes slowly along with the reheating of the chicken.

When Olivia enters the living room to check on Elliot he's standing near her window looking out at the rain that's quietly begun to fall. Darkness has blanketed the city and the water is reflecting off the streetlights. He seems to be lost in thought but one side of his mouth is turned up in a grin.

"What's so amusing," she asks, coming to stand behind him.

"Nothing, just," he begins, pausing to think. "Happy," he adds, turning to face her.

His smile is infectious. He takes the step towards her closing the distance between them and places both hands on her waist.

"Dance with me," he says, beginning to sway back and forth.

Olivia hesitates a moment before putting her arms around his shoulders. She told someone once a long time ago that she didn't dance. Perhaps she was just waiting for the right song or the right partner.

Elliot pulls her closer.

"Is this okay," he whispers into her ear.

In response to his words she holds tighter to him, placing her forehead on his shoulder. When the music stops he continues to sway.

"El the food," she tells him, pulling away.

Olivia feels it again…that shift. No one has ever doubted their chemistry. But acting on it was never an option for them before. There was always an obstacle.

But with those obstacles gone she's allowing herself to feel what's always been there. The fact that it's more than just physical attraction is scaring her.

To know Elliot the cop, the partner, the friend has been different than what he's shared with her over the time they've spent reconnecting.

This man is more open. He says what he's feeling and he's unselfish. This Elliot isn't afraid to touch her, doesn't worry about what everyone else thinks and puts Olivia and her needs first. Yet, still she waits for something to go wrong.

He follows her back to the kitchen, planting himself on a stool to watch her work.

"I can't believe you actually cooked," he pokes.

"Yeah well I don't often get the opportunity or the desire to," she tells him. "It doesn't mean I'm incapable."

"I can see that," he says, not hiding the fact that he's watching her.

She has no response for it so she just smiles and continues working. Olivia isn't yet used to Elliot looking at her so unguarded.

She prepares two plates of food and grabs a bottle of Chardonnay. She pours while he takes his first bites.

"Oh that's good Liv," he says, smiling around his fork. "You should definitely turn that thing on more often," he adds, pointing to her oven.

She laughs sitting down next to him. Olivia's pleased with the way the food turned out; she'll definitely make the recipe again.

"There's more if you want it," she tells him after they've finished.

"I'm full but thank you," he answers. "And since you cooked, I'll clean up," he tells her, clearing the plates from the counter. "Why don't you take the wine into the living room and find something else to listen to," he suggests.

Olivia agrees and watches from the sofa. Elliot moves around her kitchen like he's at home, loading her dishwasher, wiping down the counters and putting away the food.

She guesses she has Kathy to thank for that. The man is well trained.

Olivia scrolls through her mp3 player; looking for something they can listen to when her fingers hit play of their own accord.

Leela James, _When You Love Somebody._

It's a little bluesy, a little soulful. Melinda exposed it to her to it last year and it immediately gelled.

Elliot leans against the kitchen counter listening to the lyrics of the song. He watches as Olivia takes slow steps to the same spot at her window that he was drawn to. She uses her finger to trace a single drop of rain as it streams down the glass.

He has to wonder what she must be thinking in choosing the music. Or, more importantly _who_ she's thinking of.

He approaches her from behind just as the song finishes, putting his hand on the small of her back.

"So, that song-"

"Yeah," she says, responding to his unanswered question. "I heard it in Melinda's lab shortly after you put your papers in," she rasps and it feels like a confession.

Elliot turns her away from the window so he can see her face.

She forgot that the music also reminds her of his swift exit from her life and that the result from the memory is often an emotional one.

Olivia is glassy eyed and looks down, embarrassed about getting weepy over a song. Elliot tips her chin up with his index finger so that she's staring into his eyes. Then he takes the pads of his thumbs and catches the tears as they fall, wiping them away.

"Olivia," he says, with a voice breaking like it did in the hospital. "I'm sorry for ever hurting you," he manages. "For every time and in every way I've done that," he adds.

He cradles her face in his hands slowly placing tender kisses to her forehead and both cheeks and repeating 'I'm sorry' before each one. He hesitates before lowering his mouth to hers, giving her time to pull away or think better of it.

Elliot's lips just cover hers initially, testing their boundaries. When she doesn't object he slides his lips over hers, suckling on her bottom lip before stealing into her mouth.

She finds herself placing her hands on his back, pulling him towards her as she did while they were dancing. The feel of his body against hers, his unique scent and the way he's tenderly kissing her is vastly putting the idea of simple friendship out of Olivia's mind.

Elliot moves his hands from her face to thread them through her hair. As they break to breathe, he trails small kisses along her jaw before pulling back.

"I think I should go now," he tells her, removing his hands from her altogether. "I can't promise to behave myself," he says, stuffing his fingers into his front pockets for emphasis.

Olivia smiles at the gesture. She puts one hand on her hip and the other to her lips, smiling in disbelief. If he kept kissing her like that, she's surprised to find she doesn't think she could control herself either.

"I'll walk you out then," she tells him.

Elliot grabs his jacket from a nearby coat hook when they take the short trip to her front door.

"Thanks for dinner," he says. "It was really good," he adds, putting on his jacket.

"Thank you for coming with me today," Olivia tells him. "And for taking me to the track," she adds. "I had a lot of fun."

"You're welcome," he says, standing awkwardly at her front door.

"This is kind of weird huh," she comments, grinning.

"Yeah it is," he returns, smiling along with her. "But I really want to kiss you goodnight Liv," he admits, being serious again.

Olivia takes a step towards him, putting her arms around his neck.

"I'm not stopping you," she tells him.

Elliot wastes no time leaning down, covering his lips with hers again. He feels Olivia step into him, getting impossibly closer.

She's kissing him this time, exploring his mouth learning how he tastes. Her hands move to the front of his chest feeling the taut muscles beneath the thin t-shirt he wears. Before she realizes what she's doing her hands are smoothing his jacket over his shoulders and down his arms letting it fall to the floor.

His mouth on her skin is dangerous. Elliot kisses fire from her collar bone to a small spot below her ear and she wants more. She needs to touch him. Olivia steals her hands beneath the shirt, exploring his expansive chest with her fingertips. She finds herself up against her front door as they discover one another.

Elliot's hands smooth up her abdomen until she feels him palming her breasts beneath her shirt. When he swipes a thumb over an erect nipple, she fails to stifle a moan. When he does it again, she doesn't bother trying.

She pushes away from the door, grasping his face and attacking his lips again. Elliot holds onto her waist before moving his hands south over her ass.

"El wait," she says, breathlessly.

He immediately stops, taking his hands off her.

"I'm sorry-I got carried away-we're going too fast," he babbles.

Olivia steps towards him, placing her hands against his chest.

"It's not-It's not too fast El," she says, grinning.

"Then what's wrong," he asks, concern lacing his voice.

To Olivia it's just one more reason why she feels like she's not about to make a mistake with him.

"I'll be right back," she tells him. "Don't go anywhere," she orders, offering him a flirtatious grin as she walks away.

Elliot nods as he watches her enter her bedroom. He returns to his spot at the window, staring down at the street below. The foul weather has people hurrying along to their respective places. He can see multicolored umbrellas moving about like large mushrooms. The yellow cabs are a contrast to the gray pavement they drive on.

When she enters her bedroom Olivia doesn't hesitate. She goes straight to the top drawer of her dresser, pulling out one of the purchases she made the day Elliot found her in Greenwich Village.

She goes to the bathroom to freshen up a bit, touch up her make-up and reapply her lip gloss.

Elliot turns when he hears Olivia return from her bedroom. He puts one hand on his hip and the other he rubs his chin with as if in deep thought. Elliot quirks one side of his mouth up into a devilish grin. He moistens then bites his bottom lip as he eyes her from her pedicured toes to her tanned legs to her smiling face.

Olivia is wearing a deep purple silk robe with lavender lace designs on the shoulders. It stops just before her knees and if Elliot's current expression is any indication of how he feels with it on, Olivia can't wait to see his face once he sees what's underneath.

She has one hand on her hip and the other is playing with the belt that's holding the robe closed.

"You ready to see my cool new scar?"

**Alrighty people. It's that time again. Do I really have to beg every single time I post a new chapter? I do? Okay then. Please, please, please review and do so with something other than, "more please" or "loved it" or my personal favorite "update soon". Thank you...carry on...lol.**


	5. Chapter 5

"You look," Elliot begins, taking the few steps to get to her. "Absolutely breathtaking," he says, punctuating his remarks by inhaling then exhaling deeply.

When he reaches her he places one hand on her waist and the other on the belt of her robe. Olivia clasps her hands behind his neck, waiting for his reaction.

He slowly unties it, letting the robe fall open on its own. She smiles when she hears his short intake of breath.

She's wearing a satin, lavender open front baby doll nightie with see through plum colored lace cups tied together with a bow. Matching satin and lace bikini panties complete the set.

She can feel his eyes tracing the length of her body as if he's using his hands for the journey.

"So you like it," Olivia asks, grinning up at him.

Instead of responding he leans down to capture her mouth in a kiss. It's a very slow exploration, a sucking and nipping of her lips.

They pause long enough for Olivia to take Elliot's hand leading him to her bedroom. He shucks his shoes along the way.

As they stand in front of her bed, he slips the robe down over her shoulders placing a lingering kiss on her skin as it falls.

"Are you sure?"

Olivia nods without hesitation while helping him pull his shirt up and over his head. Once off, it comes to rest somewhere near her discarded robe.

She takes her time roaming her fingertips over his chest and down his stomach before stepping closer to him. Olivia inhales his scent before putting her lips everywhere her hands have just been.

"This'll probably go better without these," she tells him, tugging at his jeans.

Elliot smiles before unbuttoning and dropping his pants revealing gray boxer briefs and his burgeoning _excitement_ for her.

"Better," he asks in a whisper, placing his arms around her again, lightly biting her earlobe and pulling her body flush against his.

"Yes," she moans, feeling him through what little they're both wearing.

Elliot brings his mouth back to hers and she feels like he's trying to consume her. She feels his hands tracing the delicate curves of her back before they travel over the satin material beneath her thighs lifting her.

When he puts her on the bed she backs up towards her pillows, coming to rest on both elbows. He takes the time again to look over the woman that lays before him unable to keep from smiling.

"Stop drooling and get up here."

Elliot crawls leisurely up and over her body. He grins devilishly as he takes his teeth to the ribbon holding the lace cups together and pulls away. She sits up letting the material fall off altogether, revealing her round ample breasts.

He kisses her again, starting at her lips, laying her down as he trails his mouth from her chin down her neck, licking his way over her collar bone before placing a gentle kiss over her newly acquired scar. When he takes her nipple into his mouth, she nearly comes undone.

Olivia feels his teeth graze over the sensitive bud before he blows on it and begins making circular motions with his tongue. She can't help grabbing the back of his head to spur him on.

As he drives her insane with his lips on one, his left hand is massaging the other while his right is grasping her thigh. Olivia's always loved his ability to multitask.

She moans as he switches his ministrations to the opposite side. Olivia feels the desire to kiss him again and pulls his face back up to hers. Before she realizes it she's bucking into him causing his own moan to escape.

Olivia decides she likes that sound and wants to hear it again. She finds the waistband of his boxer briefs, smoothing her hands over his ass as she pushes them down.

Elliot kicks them off the bed now laying completely naked over his ex-partner. He reattaches his lips to hers resting between her thighs. She reaches down stroking the length of him to distraction. Her languid, torturous exploration of Elliot has him moaning again and she loves it.

Not one to be one-upped he stops her.

"You're not playing fair," he whispers before placing a bite to her neck then soothing it with his tongue. "My turn."

He gets a naughty look on his face before he's kissing her again, tasting her, nipping at her lips and making love to her mouth. It's a distraction and she knows it.

Before she can process it her panties are down her legs, gone and Elliot is rubbing two digits teasingly against her before delving inside. His adept fingers has her clinching the sheets with an arch in her back. And as good as it feels she doesn't want an orgasm from his fingers.

Olivia pulls his hand away, squeezes her inner thighs against him flipping them over. She reaches over to her nightstand drawer retrieving a condom.

"Glad one of us is thinking," he says folding both arms behind his head. He smiles up at her knowing _exactly_ what she wants.

There's no surprise when she rips it open with her teeth and slides it on without his assistance. She was always a take charge kind of woman.

Once she's sheathed him, Elliot flips them again.

"And I thought you were gonna' let me do all the work," she says, feeling him rub against her entrance. "I'm still healing you know."

Elliot reverently rubs a finger over the new scar. She can tell he's thinking about what could've happened to her with the change in his demeanor.

"Hey," she tells him, pulling his attention back to her eyes. "I'm right here," she whispers against his lips as he rests his forehead on hers. She feels him nod as Elliot covers her lips again, kissing her like she wanted him to in the hospital.

When he finally joins them together Elliot gasps. At feeling her all around him, he can't believe the combination of emotions that hit him all at once. He wants to tell her about the most important one. He wants her to know…

"El baby you gotta move," she whispers into his ear, as she cradles his face with her hands. The words are enough to shake him from his thoughts.

Elliot's strokes are unhurried and deliberate while kissing every square inch of skin he can reach in their current position. Olivia does the same when she isn't mapping his skin with her hands.

"You feel so good," he tells her, pulling one of her thighs higher to get deeper. He moves within her smoothly like the lubricated pistons of a V8 engine. It's calm and quiet initially but building in strength with each passing moment.

She meets every stroke with one of her own until they become erratic and fueled with fire and intensity_. _Her heartbeat is just as wild as his movements and she can feel the sweat coating their skin. The rain against her window effectively muffles the grunts and moans of their passionate love making.

Long minutes later, Olivia can feel the familiar electricity building in the pit of her stomach and she knows she's close.

"El I'm," she tries, unable to get the words out but he understands.

He reaches between them stroking the sensitive bundle of nerves he knows will send her flying over the edge. Elliot isn't that far away from it himself.

Olivia's body responds almost instantly, her back arching up of its own accord as she screams out. In feeling her inner muscles clench around him, Elliot's not long to follow her. He collapses to the side of her waiting to catch his breath, discarding the condom in a nearby wastebasket.

He pulls the covers up and over their cooling bodies as an after thought, the heat of them making it unnecessary before. The only light source is that of the moon as it peaks through her curtains and bathes them in its soft glow.

Olivia can't believe that three weeks ago she was in a hospital longing for something rejuvenating, something light to contrast the darkness she sees too often, something or _someone_ to show her the pleasure of life outside of SVU.

Since she's been back in touch with Elliot, he's done exactly that. Whatever the reason, he's become what she's needed, wanted. Whether it was from the thought of losing her or all the therapy he's gone through, he's not the same guy that retired.

Her partner she loved. This man, she's half way being _in love _with. Aside from their physical attraction to one another, Olivia knows people have assumed that to be the case all along. But it wasn't because she knew he was unattainable, and she's no masochist.

They lay on their sides facing each other. Very little space exists between them as Elliot pushes her hair out of her face before laying a hand on her side. She's playing with what little hair he has on his chest, grinning her disbelief at what just happened. Or more so, who it just happened with.

"I'm happy too," she whispers in the dark and quiet of the room. The admission both surprises and scares her.

Olivia can see the smile on his face before he leans over to kiss her.

"I'm glad," he tells her when he pulls away. After a few seconds a chuckle escapes his lips.

"What," she asks, lowering her hand to peruse the mane on his stomach.

"You called me baby," he reveals, earning a playful slap to his chest.

"It went with the moment you ass," she responds. "Had to say something to snap you out of your reverie," she tells him, going back to placing a hand on his stomach.

"It was just weird hearing it from you that first time," he admits, now stroking her thigh.

"Weird," she repeats. "_We_…as in you and I…are lying here naked," she begins. "In my bed after having sex and _that's_ the weird part," she asks incredulously.

"It was," he says. "But now that I've heard you call me that," he begins, pulling her thigh over his. "I kind of want to hear it again," he tells her grinning.

"Really," she asks, amused.

"Yeah," he tells her, rubbing her thigh. "You could probably get me to do anything if you started with 'baby'," he confesses, turning to lay on his back.

"Really," Olivia repeats, mischievously.

"Yes," Elliot tells her again as he pulls her half on top of him.

"I'll try not to use that knowledge for evil," she says, getting comfortable against him.

"You know it's a _man's_ biological response to sleep after sex right," he advises, after feeling her breaths slow against him.

"Your fault," she mumbles.

Elliot smiles and decides to let her sleep. Minutes later he's drifting off into his own dreamland.

Night turns into day and before they realize the sun is creeping up over the horizon, bathing Olivia's room in an orange light. It's a stark contrast from the gray, rainy night that has passed.

Her bladder and stomach conspire to wake her from a peaceful rest. Olivia manages to successfully retract herself from Elliot without disturbing him.

She picks her robe up from the floor and enters the bathroom quietly shutting the door behind her. After flushing and washing her hands she creeps past his sleeping form and into the kitchen.

Olivia knows she shouldn't, but that cheesecake with strawberry sauce was calling to her even as she slept. She cuts a small sliver, places it on a saucer and sits atop the counter to indulge herself. The first bite is so good she closes her eyes to relish in the taste. When she opens them again Elliot is standing before her in his underwear.

"Shit," she yells. "Elliot, you scared the hell out of me."

He approaches her smiling, reaching for her dessert.

"Sorry," he tells her, as she dodges his attempts to take her saucer. "But that's what you get for leaving me in bed alone."

Elliot allows her another bite before taking a different approach.

"Can I have a taste," he asks, coming closer to stand between her legs.

Olivia puts a piece of cheesecake on the fork, holding it out to him. Instead of taking the bite he leans in and captures her lips, delving into her mouth, tasting her and the dessert before pulling back.

"Wow that _is_ good," he says, licking his lips for emphasis.

Then he picks up the fork and feeds her the rest of the cheesecake. Elliot lays the saucer down next to them and captures her lips again.

Before Olivia knows it Elliot has slipped her robe down her shoulders to her waist and is trailing his lips from her mouth to her throat. She's beginning to wonder if she should retire too so he'll never have to stop touching her.

She places her arms are around his neck, pulling him closer so she can get her lips on his again.

"El baby," she begins, garnering an immediate smile from him. "I'm still hungry."

She closes her robe again, so that he can focus on something other than her naked body.

"So am I," he tells her as his eyes darken. "But if the lady wants food, then food she shall have," he adds, stepping away from her.

"I'm gonna' take a shower first," she says, hopping down off the counter. "Then we can get some breakfast at the diner down the street."

"Okay," he tells her. "Why don't I meet you there in an hour," he suggests. "I'm gonna go home, shower and change too."

It dawns on her that she has no idea where Elliot lives now. He's always met her wherever they were going or back here at her apartment.

"So where is home for you," she asks, as they enter her bedroom again. Olivia watches as he gathers his clothes, putting them back on. She notices that his demeanor changes when she asks the question.

"Um, not far actually," he responds.

"Elliot," she says, approaching him as he sits on her bed to put his shoes on.

"Yeah," he says, avoiding looking up at her.

"Where are you living now," she asks, crossing her arms over her chest. She has a bad feeling that whatever words are about to fall from his lips, she's not going to like.

"Across the street," he confesses, finally meeting her eyes.

And there's the shoe she's been waiting to drop.

How long has he lived across the damned street? Was he watching her? Did he see her go on dates? With David? Did she know the moment they'd slept together because he didn't leave that night? Did he know when they'd broken up because he never came back? Did he really just happen to bump into her that day in Greenwich Village or had he followed her?

"What the hell do you mean across the street," she asks, seething.


	6. Chapter 6

**Sorry folks. Just got back from the concrete jungle of NYC. So happy to be back at my house, with my grass, my driveway and my basement. Easily missed in the bigger city. Any hoo, feel free to review this. I'm not above begging so please!**

"How long," she asks, hoping it's a recent move so she doesn't feel like he's been lying to her.

Olivia knows it's not the same as if she straight up asked where he lived. But it does feel a lot like when he avoided telling her his mom was still alive. Elliot let her think Bernie was dead and she'd felt betrayed. A lie by omission is still a lie.

"A little over five months," he reveals.

"And that's why you said what you did in the hospital," she asks, as her wheels begin to spin on that conversation. "That you could've come to me sooner, that it shouldn't have taken you so long to talk to me," she continues. "Because you were across the damned street this whole time!"

Elliot can see her chest rising and falling with how angry she is. There's not a lot of time left before she kicks him out.

"Liv please," he begins. "Let me explain," he says, going to her but knowing not to try and touch her right now.

"Explain what Elliot," she yells. "How seeing me in the village probably wasn't some big coincidence!"

"Liv it wasn't like that," he tries.

"Then how was it Elliot," she asks, beginning to pace. "Did you watch as I went on dates to see if they went home afterwards," she adds. "Or maybe you had their license plates run to find out who they were?"

"No Olivia," he denies. "I didn't do any of that, I wouldn't do that to you," he tells her, chancing a hand to her cheek.

Olivia visibly calms but backs away from his touch.

"I took the apartment because it was available and I could actually afford it," he begins. "I know with your hours you barely notice the people in _this_ building let alone the one across the street," he continues. "I really didn't think I'd see you and I've never intentionally spied on you."

"Intentionally," she says, raising an eyebrow. "So what did you unintentionally witness," she asks, eying him with distrust.

"I noticed…how you struggled for a little while," he confesses. "But then you seemed to find your way like I knew you would."

"What else," she asks, knowing he's not telling her everything.

"I noticed when you started seeing the man you told me about," he reveals. "And how you were after that missing boy from '99, Hector Rodriguez was back in the papers when his body was finally found."

"You know a lot for someone who hasn't been spying on me _intentionally_," she tells him. "And you didn't try to help me with any of it," she says, her voice breaking.

"Liv I'm so sorry," he begins. "But after what happened between us I didn't think you'd want me around."

"You're right," she says, suddenly cold. "I don't," she adds, entering the bathroom and shutting the door behind herself.

"Liv please don't do this," he begs. "I stupidly thought this wouldn't be an issue," he continues. "And I was wrong but please don't shut me out."

And just like that, she feel's shot all over again.

"Leave me alone Elliot," she says through the door. "I can't do this with you right now."

Elliot dejectedly puts a palm against the door. He thinks it's a new record on him screwing something up. He gathers his clothes and does exactly as she asks.

Olivia is hurt, angry and sad all at the same time. She takes a shower and shampoos her hair but doesn't bother putting on anything but lounge clothes. Leaving her apartment is not on her list of things to do today.

Before she questioned Elliot, the reason for that would've been because they were going to spend all day in bed. Now it's because she's too upset to leave.

They were happy together for three weeks. Olivia was hoping it lasted a bit longer and she's crying again.

Damn him she thinks, swiping at angry tears.

It's been an hour and he's already rang her cell phone six times. She's not in the mood to listen to any more heart felt apologies.

Sunday night and she's back to feeling in a brandy and bubble bath mood. Olivia brings her mp3 player into her bathroom and presses play. She took the Leela James song out of the rotation so she won't give into the urge to return his phone calls.

She had to strip her bed of the sheets they made love on, correction…had sex on (she refuses to call it love making) because they smelled of his cologne.

Monday morning finds her ready to focus on something besides Elliot. Even though Olivia's been benched, she's looking forward to the distraction of filling out paperwork to her heart's content.

Hell, she'll do other people's paperwork if it means she doesn't have to think about his hands on her, his mouth on hers and how he made her heart want his…in 21 lousy days.

They say that's how long it takes to break a bad habit or form a good one. If she can be half in love with the man in that short amount of time, then she can stop thinking about him on that same time table.

"Morning Liv," says Rollins as she enters the bull pen. "Welcome back," she adds in her southern drawl.

"Thanks," she tells the younger woman. "Good to be back," she adds, though she knows it's because she needs the distraction.

"Hey Liv, welcome back," says Fin, as he enters and claims his desk.

"Thanks," she responds. "Happy to see something other than the walls of my apartment," she adds, continuing to work.

"Thought you could use this on your first day back," Nick says as he enters, sitting a cup of coffee from her favorite spot in front of her.

"Now you're just sucking up," Fin tells the dark haired detective. "Do your own paperwork rookie," he adds, ribbing the younger man.

"Thank you," Olivia tells him, shaking her head at her old friend's comments.

They all work diligently for about an hour before a call comes in. The captain sends Fin out with Nick, leaving the two ladies virtually alone in the squad room.

"So how you doin'," asks Rollins.

The blonde woman walks the two feet to Olivia's desk, planting herself in the chair next to it usually reserved for complainants.

"I'm good," she begins, giving Amanda a small smile. "The shoulder's healing nicely and I was able to stop taking the pain meds."

Rollins leans in a bit closer to dash the hopes of any would-be eavesdroppers. She hasn't known Olivia long, but all detectives are students of human nature. And among other things her woman's intuition is telling her something's up.

"That's great," she begins. "But I don't mean the gun shot wound," she tells her. "You're trying just a little too hard _not_ to look like somebody stole you're puppy or somethin'," she explains colorfully.

Olivia thinks the blonde is a lot more intuitive than she originally thought.

"Just ran into someone I knew once," she says, downplaying her time off. "And it was great…until it wasn't," she adds, without elaborating.

Amanda nods her understanding. Olivia doesn't have to tell her who she's talking about, Rollins knows it involves a man and that it didn't end well.

"Rollins," Cragen calls, stepping outside his office.

"If you ever want to get a drink some time and talk," Amanda offers, before getting up.

"Thanks but I'm okay."

Rollins gives her a smile before stepping into the captain's office. She comes out a short time later with an address on a slip of paper. The younger detective grabs her jacket and takes off to interview a witness.

Cragen calls Olivia into the office after she leaves.

"Welcome back," he tells her, gesturing towards a chair for her to sit in.

As she takes a seat she observes that the captain has chosen to lean against the front of his desk instead of sitting behind it. She's noticed over the years that this means he wants to have a personal conversation with her. If she was in trouble he wouldn't have asked her to sit at all.

"Thank you," she responds. "Hopefully I'll be able to qualify with my weapon sooner than three weeks," she begins. "I know Amaro and Rollins are still learning the job."

"Good to hear," he says. "But that's not why I called you in," he reveals.

Surprise, surprise.

"I'm the one that told Elliot you were shot," he confesses. "The doctors said you'd lost a lot of blood and I knew he'd want to know."

"With all due respect captain it wasn't his business to know and it wasn't your place to tell him," she says, standing abruptly.

"You can't honestly expect me to believe that if you thought _he_ was dying you wouldn't want to say goodbye to him," he tells her sternly. "I've known you both long enough to know the answer so don't bother lying," he says, surprising her.

She knows that as angry at Elliot as she is and as hurt as she feels, if the situations were reversed Olivia would still want to see him.

"I'm sorry-you're right captain," she acknowledges, regaining her seat. "I wouldn't have made you my next of kin if I didn't think you'd always act in my best interests."

"It's okay," he tells her. "I'm just glad you didn't leave me alone with Munch, Fin and two SVU rookies," he adds, his way of saying he's glad she's not dead.

"Me too," she agrees, standing again. "I'm gonna get going on that massive stack of paperwork out there," she says, heading for the door. "Thanks."

Captain Cragen nods as she shuts the door behind herself.

"Look who borrowed one of her former partner's nine lives," comments Munch as she returns from Cragen's office. "Wouldn't have been the same without you kid."

"I'm glad I'm still alive too," she tells him, taking her seat again. "And thanks."

A week, turns into two and Elliot's calls slowly taper off before stopping altogether. Olivia doesn't know if she's relieved or saddened by that fact.

She's able to qualify with her weapon early so she's back to full duty and it's a good thing, a new case has drawn their attention.

Nina Lance was a thirty-two year-old nurse, wife and mother of twin eight year-old boys. She was found raped, strangled to death and left in the trunk of her abandoned car, naked.

"Benson, Amaro," says Cragen. "Talk to the husband and find out what kind of marriage they had," he orders.

Olivia and Nick grab their coats, heading out into the chilling October air.

"Fin, Rollins," Cragen continues. "Go to the hospital where she worked and talk to the other nurses," he adds. "They probably knew her better than her family."

They find that Nina wasn't having an affair with anyone. She'd never stolen anything or wronged anyone. She was honest, decent and she loved her family until the night she was taken from them.

Olivia feels ashamed to find she wishes Nina wasn't so squeaky clean. It makes the suspect pool for those who may have wanted to kill her much deeper because it was probably a stranger.

Munch does an internet search of other boroughs and finds the M.O. repeats itself in Brooklyn, the Bronx and Queens.

They all stand around the white board in the squad room brainstorming over the case.

Rollins offers up a decent psychological profile. All three of the women killed were nurses, all in their mid to late thirties and all brunette.

"Most rapists have a type," she begins in her southern accent. "This guy seems to like dark haired, athletic women of taller than average height," she continues. "That and the condition of their bodies say he wants them to struggle."

"So he's also probably athletic himself," observes Fin.

"Yeah," Amanda concurs. "He's also likely the same age, early to late thirties, white, educated and has forensic or medical knowledge," she adds. "No semen or other fluids found on or in the bodies."

"Sounds like he's been at this awhile," comments Cragen.

"I'd say so," Olivia chimes in. "You don't get that good without practice," she offers. "And unfortunately you also don't stop until you get stopped," she continues. "We have to find this guy and soon."

"Go back to the first case in Brooklyn," orders Cragen. "Get the M.E.'s report and check over the witness statements," he tells Fin and Amaro. "He didn't start off so perfect," he concludes before returning to his office.

The two men leave immediately, hoping to crack the cases or at least something that will point them in the right direction.

"Why do you think he kills nurses," asks Olivia of Rollins.

The fair haired detective looks over the notes and the crime scene photos taped to the white board with interest.

"Maybe he works or has worked in or around hospitals," she offers. "Maybe his mother was a nurse."

Olivia gets up from their conference table, joining Amanda at the board. She pays particular interest to the cars of each crime scene.

"Or maybe he felt victimized in some way by one," says Olivia. "He beats them, strangles them, rapes them and throws them into the trunks of their own cars. It's personal for him."

She leans in to each crime scene photo noticing scratch marks on or near the trunks of each vehicle as if something was scraped off, like a sticker of some sort.

"What's up," asks Amanda, trying to understand what her colleague is seeing.

Olivia goes to her desk to retrieve a magnifying glass before returning to the white board.

"Do you see these markings," she asks Rollins. "Looks like something was scraped off of all these cars," she tells her.

"Yeah," responds the junior detective. "Maybe a parking sticker," she offers.

Olivia shakes her head.

"I don't think so," she tells her. "They worked at three different hospitals, lived in three different boroughs and didn't have any places in common to have parked in the same area," she explains.

"But they all got temp tags," Amanda notices.

Benson smiles, happy that she's caught on.

"Yep," she confirms. "So let's see if they all bought cars from the same place," she tells the rookie.

Rollins does a DMV search and discovers that all three women had recently purchased their vehicles from the Manhattan Auto Group.

Seeing as though it was nearly eight o'clock and the dealership was about to close, they decide to save the tip for tomorrow.

"That's good work," Olivia tells the Georgia peach.

"Hey it was your idea," she acknowledges. "So good job," she adds.

"You can pat each other on the back tomorrow," says the captain stepping out of his office. "You two get out of here. I want you back bright and early to compare notes with Fin and Amaro."

After they say their goodnights to the captain he re-enters his office.

"You know Rollins, I think I'll take you up on that drink now," Liv tells Amanda.

After a few rounds with the rookie doing some venting without giving her the details, she feels a lot better and a little buzzed. The southern belle can definitely hold her liquor and ends up putting Olivia into a cab. They say their goodnights and part ways.

When Olivia reaches her apartment door, she sees a familiar figure sitting outside of it with his coat draped over his arm. It looks like he would've waited all night if necessary. He is one determined S.O.B. For all the ways he's changed he's still just as ornery and steel willed as he's always been.

Elliot.


	7. Chapter 7

**Here it is people. Only two more after this. I'll say it again. Reviews always help my muse! Whether you love it or hate it, I'd love to know why.**

"Whatever you have to say," she tells him. "I'm too tired to listen," she adds, opening her apartment door.

"It won't take long," he offers. "I promise."

She takes one look at him and the determination in his eyes. Olivia always did have trouble saying no to the man. Anger usually gives her the strength, but she isn't all that mad at him anymore.

She enters her apartment and Elliot is right behind her. He lets her get two feet into the room before tossing his coat aside and turning her to him. He cages her between himself and the door of her coat closet, placing his hands at her shoulder level.

"What the hell Elliot," she says, but loses steam when he leans in closer to her. His scent, his presence has always had the power to do her in. She used to be better at ignoring it but that was _before_ they'd slept together.

She imagines she can feel the heat of his body through their clothing. Her heart has suddenly picked up pace at his proximity and she struggles to appear unaffected.

"It's been two weeks and I miss you," he rasps, inches from her face. "And I know you're short on forgiveness," he continues. "But please tell me what I can do?"

"There's nothing you-

Elliot interrupts her by capturing her lips in a lingering kiss. She can taste the alcohol he's been drinking and he can no doubt taste hers as well. But neither is so affected that they don't know what's going on.

Her usual iron will is rapidly deteriorating.

"There has to be something," he says, whispering in her ear before trailing warm, moist open mouthed kisses down her neck, her arms hanging limply at her sides. "I can't lose you again."

"There's nothing," she tries, but a moan escapes when he bites her skin and soothes it with his tongue.

"Shit," she says, unable to come up with anything else. Memories of their first and last time in bed together flood her mind.

Olivia drops her keys and purse, placing tentative hands on his waist trying to resist touching him more intimately. Elliot peels the coat down her arms, letting it fall to the floor with the rest of her belongings. He un-tucks her blouse, placing his warm hands on her waiting skin.

"I'm a thoughtless asshole," he says, as his hands roam the contours of her lower back while capturing her lips again.

If anyone ever wanted to torture her for information and could turn Elliot to a life of crime, they could send him in and she'd spill every damned secret she knows.

"Tell me there's something I can do," he begs against her cheek, hands now seeking out the front of her blouse.

"There's," she begins again, before she feels his thumb swiping over a nipple through the material of her bra causing her to gasp. Her resolve is officially gone.

One of Elliot's thighs have found it's way in between hers and as he manipulates her breasts she finds herself grinding against it. She can't believe how turned on she is from the caveman tactics he's employed while trying to apologize…_again_.

"Baby please," he says, biting and sucking on her earlobe. "Tell me you still want me," he whispers. He pulls her left thigh up over his right hip, pressing her further against the door. Olivia can literally feel his yearning for her as well and he bucks against her for emphasis.

The desperation in his body and words is palpable. He's never called her "baby". And while she doesn't usually enjoy such terms of endearment, Olivia finds she likes it just as much as he did when she said it.

_So_, between the alcohol and the sheer fact that she's turned on beyond all reason, she says the one word to him that she may regret later.

"Yes," she breathes against his neck.

Elliot wastes no time pulling her other thigh up until she's no longer standing. Olivia wraps her legs around his waist as he carries her into the bedroom, navigating the apartment expertly in the near darkness.

Her last coherent thought is that she'd made it fifteen damned days without him. She only had six more to go. Twenty-one days to break a habit her _ass_. It's going to take a lot longer than that.

Acting on their desire for each other has been like letting a wild animal out of it's cage after they'd spent twelve years poking at it with a stick. It's angry and it isn't going to be easily confined again, if at all.

She kicks her boots and socks off along the way, ravaging the skin of Elliot's neck with her tongue and teeth as they make it to her bedroom. He unclips her shield and weapon, laying them on her nightstand.

As soon as he deposits her on the bed, Olivia takes off her blouse, unclasps her bra and throws them both to the floor. Elliot does the same with his shirt, shoes and jeans making quick work of it all. His eyes have darkened to a storm laden blue as he descends upon her again removing her belt and unzipping her pants.

Olivia is on the edge of the bed when he works her blue cotton panties down her legs. She's too turned on to be embarrassed about the fact that they don't match her bra because she threw both them on so hastily this morning. And Elliot for damned sure doesn't seem to mind.

As he kneels on the floor he pulls her towards him. He's kissing his way from the inside of her ankles to her inner thighs. Elliot parts her legs putting one over each of his shoulders. When he takes one swipe at her center with his tongue, she feels like she's going to spontaneously combust.

Olivia feels the sweat on her fingertips as she fists her Egyptian cotton bed sheets, simultaneously cussing and calling out the names of various deities as he works her over. She can't remember what the hell he did wrong but she'll say she forgives him just as soon as she regains the ability to speak clearly.

The orgasm that spreads through her minutes later is so strong that it hits her in waves that pulse from her core to her fingertips. When she finally comes back to herself, she notices a single tear has slipped out the corner of her left eye. She doesn't remember _that_ ever happening. Damn.

Olivia scoots back far enough so that her feet no longer dangle over the side of the bed. He grabs a condom from her nightstand drawer, remembering where she keeps them from their first encounter.

Elliot trails his mouth from her navel, relishing in her breasts, continuing to her clavicle before tasting her earlobe again.

"I'm going to kiss every square inch of your skin if it takes all night," he whispers and it nearly sounds like a threat. She trembles just slightly from the thought. As he kneels between her legs, she sits up long enough to push the black briefs he wears down his thighs. Elliot removes them completely, smiling predatorily as he lays her down again.

He enters her smoothly and draws out slowly before plunging in again. The way they're positioned on the bed leaves the edge of her mattress available for him to use as leverage. It's a languid, tormenting pace Elliot's keeping and as much as she loves it she knows neither of them will last.

"Faster El," she tells him, meeting his thrusts with her own.

Minutes later when he quickens the pace she feels like a row boat on a storm ravaged sea. All she can do is hold on. The heat Elliot is creating between them as he pistons his hips is leaving her nearly feverish. She can barely find purchase on his slick, sweat coated back as he moves with her. And the way he's holding her eyes at the same time is making a connection with him she'll not soon want to break.

They are violating the laws of physics by occupying the same space at the same time. He is claiming her, taking up residence inside her like the world is ending or he'll never see her again. It is feral, primal and animalistic and while she's had great sex before, this thing with Elliot is like an ascension. One she doesn't want to come down from.

There have been times in her sexual history where Olivia has faked an orgasm or didn't bother because the man she was with had found his so quickly. She's never had one simultaneously with any of her lovers. _Ever_.

Until now.

When they come back to themselves neither of them knows what to say. Elliot is resting his forehead against her shoulder, still on top of her trying to slow his breathing. Olivia is rubbing a soothing hand up and down his spine, speechless.

"Have you ever," he begins breathlessly, rolling away to lie on his back beside her.

"No," she responds, without needing to hear the rest. "Have you?"

"Never," he tells her, without hesitation.

The light of a big, beautiful silvery full moon finds them facing one another again. She palms his cheek, rubbing her thumb against several days' growth. Elliot sweeps the sweat drenched hair from her face.

"So _beautiful_," he manages, before placing his lips shortly against hers.

They eye one another with heavy lids knowing they're both spent and headed for unconsciousness. She feels him kiss her forehead before she drifts off.

The next morning she is awakened not by the daylight that's crept through her curtains, but by one of her favorite aromas in the world.

Brewing coffee.

Yet she doesn't remember setting the timer. Shit.

Elliot's in there.

Olivia takes a moment to take in her surroundings. She's naked, her clothes and his shirt and shoes are still on the floor. She knows there were four condoms left. A quick inventory of her nightstand drawer reveals…one.

What the hell?

She closes her eyes to think and then it all comes back to her. He woke Olivia up again maybe an hour after they had fallen asleep by making good on kissing every square inch of her body (God help her). And she's the one that initiated the third expenditure climbing on top of Elliot in the wee hours of the morning.

Olivia sits up running her fingers through her hair before cradling her face. She's never drinking again. Not unless he's safely in another state.

She knows she wasn't too drunk to consent, but the booze definitely lowered her inhibitions and lessened the desire to just kick him out. If she's honest with herself though, whether drunk or sober she didn't want to.

Shit, shit, shit. Work.

Cragen said he wanted them there bright and early. She has about forty-five minutes to make that happen.

She jumps out of bed, takes a shower ignoring the bruises on her hips where he held on to her and the ache in various other places. She puts on the barest of makeup and thanks God she got some clothes from the cleaners yesterday.

Olivia nearly collides with a shirtless, shoeless Elliot as she scoops up her coat, purse and keys from the floor.

"I'm sorry," she says. "But I'm running really late," she tells him.

"We'll talk later," he says, letting her off the hook. "Go," he adds handing her a travel mug of the coffee she smelled.

"Thanks," she manages, giving him an apologetic look before placing her hand on the doorknob. Before she's able to get it open, his mouth is on hers again as he places a gentle palm against her cheek while kissing her tenderly.

It bombards Olivia with memories of last night's escapades and she finds herself deepening the kiss beyond his intention, dropping her purse and keys again. As she wraps her arms around Elliot, she's beginning to think she's becoming an addict. Her need to keep touching him is nearly insatiable.

"I have to go," she says, after finally breaking the kiss.

He bends to pick her keys up placing them in her hand before putting her purse on her shoulder.

"Go," Elliot repeats, smiling. And this time he lets her.

It's going to be a long day.

She rushes into the bullpen trying to slip amongst the pow-wow unnoticed. They're all sitting or standing around the conference table in front of the white board.

"When we checked out the suspect list and talked to the Brooklyn detectives," begins Amaro. "One guy threw up red flags for them _and_ stuck out as fitting Rollins' profile."

Fin takes a picture and tapes it to the white board with the crime scene photos. He turns and begins explaining who the man is.

"Tyler Branson was a person of interest in the first homicide," Fin elaborates. "He wasn't looked into further because his mom, who he lives with, alibied him."

"And since we're the ones who discovered the pattern," begins Cragen. "He wasn't on the radar for the other two," he continues. "But what makes him so special?"

"In looking deeper into his background we found that he used to be a doctor," reveals Amaro.

Olivia perks right up. It's spot on to Amanda's profile.

"Tell me he knew the first victim," she says, chiming in.

"We're not that lucky," Fin tells her. "But he did know this woman," he adds, taping another picture to the white board. "Alicia Johnson, Nurse Alicia Johnson that is, ratted him out for stealing and selling prescription drugs to supplement his income as a resident."

"He was fired, prosecuted and he went away for three years," Nick tells them. "He lost his medical license and his cell mate says he had it rough."

"That's an understatement," chimes in Fin. "Checked with a buddy of mine at Sing-Sing," he adds. "Records show he was in and out of the infirmary with multiple injuries and had to get stitches a couple times for anal tearing."

Olivia listens intently to the story as the man and the motive are brought together. She walks over to the white board pointing at each dead woman.

"Okay so why not just kill Alicia," she starts. "Why each of these women," she asks standing in front of the group.

"Probably too obvious," says Cragen. "He'd be the first person we'd look at so maybe he's used these women as surrogates."

"He has to have someone to punish for what he endured," Olivia explains. "The first time he saw _nurse_ listed as an occupation on a loan sheet probably triggered his rage."

"He puts them through what he went through in prison," offers Munch.

"I wouldn't be surprised to find bruising from strangulation amongst his many injuries from the prison infirmary logs," Olivia suggests to the group.

"And the trunks represent his being locked up," comments Rollins. "Thrown into a dark hole just like he was."

"But we don't have any physical evidence tying him to the victims," Munch begins. "We don't know where he killed 'em and there's no one that can place him with any of these women before they were last seen."

"Munch, dump the LUDs from M.A.G. and compare them with those from the victim's home and cell lines," Cragen orders. "Maybe he lured them to the dealership under the guise of some last minute or forgotten paperwork."

"Benson, Amaro go talk to Alicia Johnson," continues Cragen. "See if he tried to communicate with her while in prison or since," he tells them. "Fin, take Rollins to the dealership and find out how he managed to land a job selling high-end cars fresh out the cage."

Olivia and Amaro arrive at Mercy General and ask for Alicia. Another nurse points them into the direction of an open area where the medical staff take smoke breaks.

They spot her from her DMV picture, talking and laughing with another nurse.

"Alicia Johnson," begins Amaro, as both detectives show her their badges. The other nurse makes himself scarce.

"Yeah," she says. "How can I help you," says the tall brunette. The first victim is damn near her spitting image.

Their suspect's wheels must've been turning immediately the first time he'd seen her.

"We were wondering if you could tell us about Tyler Branson," asks Nick. "We understand you were the one that reported him to the hospital board."

"Um, yeah," she says. "I hated to do it too because he was actually on his way to becoming a competent doctor," the woman offers. "But he was one of those types that saw dollar signs instead of patients."

"He was only a resident right," asks Nick. "He couldn't have been seeing too many dollar signs."

They follow the nurse off to a corner table with less ears, so they can have some privacy.

"He was always saying how his mom wanted a doctor and he wanted a Porsche so he compromised and got into medicine," she tells them. "Guess he didn't realize how long it would take to be able to afford one," she continues. "He was drowning in debt."

"How do you know that his mom didn't help him out," asks Olivia.

The nurse shakes her head adamantly.

"No way," she tells them, taking a drag from her cigarette. "He worked as many shifts as he could, the man was burning the candle at both ends," she says. "You're not working that hard if someone's helping you out."

"How did you find out he was stealing drugs," Nick asks.

"We have an electronic dispensary system that is closely monitored," she begins. "Especially when it comes to narcotics," she adds. "There were too many inconsistencies on his shifts, with the number of patients he saw and the type of meds they needed or as it turns out didn't need," she advises.

"What drew your attention to him," asks Olivia.

"He stopped working so hard, started dressing better, got a newer car," she offers, taking a final puff. "It wasn't fresh off the showroom floor but I was suspicious."

"Did he threaten you in court or while he was in prison," Olivia asks her.

Alicia shakes her head again and thumps her cigarette butt away.

"Surprisingly no," she tells them. "Gave me some looks that could kill at the trial but didn't actually threaten me or send me any hate mail."

"Do you remember him being short tempered or angry with anyone while he was working here," Nick asks. "I know competition for good rotations can get rough."

The nurse stands up, looks at her watch signaling to them that her break and therefore their interview was coming to an end.

"Nah, but I always thought he was a bit more twisted than the rest of us," she starts. "Don't get me wrong most people in this profession have a morbid sense of humor," she continues. "But Tyler used to say he already had a place picked out."

"Picked out for what," Olivia asks.

"Called it a kill spot," she gives them, before leaving the atrium.

**Hey, if you got this far you may as well let me know what you're thinking in a review.**


	8. Chapter 8

**Only one more after this! As always the original SVU characters belong to Dick Wolf, yada, yada, yada…But the story is all mine, enjoy.**

All the detectives and the captain meet back in the squad room to compare notes on the investigation. They've returned to the conference table to brainstorm and eat lunch.

"Young Tyler wasn't at work today but we found out he got such a cushy gig fresh out the joint because the general manager just so happens to be his first cousin," reveals Fin.

He grabs a white box of Chinese food and a set of chopsticks before he digs in to some beef and broccoli.

"You get anything from the LUDs," asks Cragen, directing his attention to Munch stabbing at some orange chicken.

Munch takes a pause from his lunch to retrieve the stack of papers reflecting all the phone calls from the Manhattan Auto Group and the victim's cell and home numbers.

"Looks like normal back and forth around the time the vehicles were purchased," he informs the captain. "But nothing after," he adds. "And this being the digital age and all, I also had TARU check for emails and still came up with nada."

"So if he's not luring them out and there's no communication between them," the captain starts. "How the hell is he getting to them?"

Rollins leans back on her chair, clasping her hands behind her head.

"He does have access to duplicate keys," she suggests, glad her profile isn't the only thing she's brought to the investigation. "Branson probably stalked them, figured out their routines and maybe hid in their cars."

"That's bold as hell," Fin chimes in. "But we still don't have a primary crime scene," he tells them.

"Yeah," comments Munch. "With the obvious lack of physical evidence and condition of these bodies," he adds gesturing at the crime scene pictures. "Wherever it is has to be remote or soundproof," he advises. "Because we know they all fought like hell."

"And hell is exactly what he put them through," comments Melinda, as she strolls into the squad room.

"Hey doc," responds Fin. "Got something to add," he asks, as they all give her their undivided attention.

"Yes," she tells them. "I was able to look at the M.E.'s report on the first homicide and compared them to the other three," she begins. "These women weren't just raped and strangled, they were tortured," she tells them. "Probably for hours."

They detectives look at her waiting for her to elaborate. She steps towards the white board, pointing out details in the autopsy photos.

"The bruises on the bodies were in various states of healing," she informs them. "Which means the beatings were probably prolonged," she continues. "And there's one more thing," she advises. "Our victim had traces of water in her lungs."

They all look at her like she's speaking in a foreign tongue.

"Water," says Olivia. "I thought they were strangled?"

"So did the other M.E.'s," she advises. "After finding a broken hyoid bone maybe they stopped looking for anything else."

"And that's why we're so lucky to have you," says Fin, smiling at Melinda.

"Yes you are," Warner tells him, before continuing with her news. "Nina Lance was repeatedly drowned and revived before he strangled her to death," she informs them. "I suspect they all were but without having them on my table I can't say for sure."

"What kind of water was it doc," questions Amaro. "We looking for a swimming pool or a bath tub drowning here?"

"A natural water source," she tells him. "Brackish, a combination of fresh and salt water," she continues. "Nina had more fresh than salt so I'd say your perp stayed local."

"Thanks Melinda," says Cragen, as she exit's the squad room.

"The primary crime scene has to be a boat of some kind," offers Rollins. "It would explain why the cars were all abandoned only a couple miles from piers."

"And why there were no witnesses," comments Olivia. "No one hears you scream out on open water."

On the basis that he sold vehicles to all four victims and had access to their work and home addresses, Captain Cragen gets on the phone to A.D.A. Barba to request warrants for Tyler Branson's financial records to see if he owns any type of water vessel.

He also requests search warrants for the residence he shares with his mother, the boat if one exists and his time sheets to compare them with the dates and times of the victims' disappearances.

After executing the warrants Barba gets them, the detectives find enough information to all but guarantee a warrant for their suspect's arrest.

The time sheets and work schedules provided by the Manhattan Auto Group show his absences, late arrival or early departure from work on days the women disappeared.

With the time periods being long and varied Branson's mother is unable to give him an alibi this time. Means, motive and opportunity equal a warrant for Tyler Branson's arrest.

Now they just have to find him, the primary crime scene or some physical evidence tying him to the victims.

He pays pier fees in various locations and could be docked at anyone of them. Or, he could be sailing halfway to Canada.

"Alright gang," begins the Captain. "It's been a long day and we've done all we can," he tells them. "If he uses his credit cards or tries to get money from an ATM it'll be flagged. It's time to go home. Rollins and Fin you guys are catching this weekend."

"What about Branson Captain," begins Amaro. "He's definitely a mama's boy," he continues. "Maybe we should stay on her house."

The captain puts his hands in his pockets, grinning at the young detective's enthusiasm.

"Already taken care of," he informs him. "Uni's are on his mom's house and I have cooperation from the local departments of every slip he's paying rent for," he adds. "Go home. Tuck in Zara."

Nick nods as the captain returns to his office. Because they're on call this weekend Rollins and Fin have already left for the night.

"Something bothering you Nick," asks Olivia from her desk. She's also stalling knowing she needs to talk to Elliot.

He sits in the chair next to her desk, stretching his feet out and crossing them at the ankles.

"I think this guy feels the noose tightening around his throat," he tells her. "Facing what he knows he's facing and having already been to the joint-

"You think he's gonna do something desperate," she interrupts. "One last hurrah before he gets caught," she adds, leaning back in her chair.

Nick nods, planting an elbow on her desk.

"That's exactly what I think," he admits. "I just hate waiting for the other shoe to drop," he tells her. "Know what I mean?"

Olivia sits up, retrieving her keys and purse from her drawer.

"Yes," she answers without pause. "But sometimes we don't have a choice," she tells her partner. "I'll walk you out."

Olivia nearly breathes a sigh of relief when she doesn't find Elliot waiting for her in her hallway again.

It was in fact a very long day.

She enters her apartment, turns on the lights laying her purse and keys on the counter. When she turns to her refrigerator to scrounge for food she finds a note taped to the door.

_Liv,_

_I know you've probably put off eating so I cooked. Hope that's okay._

_El_

_P.S. - Call me when you're ready to talk._

Olivia opens her fridge and to her pleasant surprise there's grilled salmon, baked sweet potatoes and green beans.

And if what he did for and _to_ her body last night wasn't enough of an apology, he's left her a slice of chocolate torte from her favorite bakery for dessert.

She takes the food out and nukes it in the microwave. Everything tastes amazing and when she gets her fill she puts the leftovers back in the fridge.

Olivia feels a bubble bath and brandy night is highly appropriate. As she presses play and slips into the hot water and bubbles she tries to forget about Tyler Branson and his victims but it's difficult.

As if being abducted and raped weren't enough, they had to endure being repeatedly drowned and revived only to have to go through it all over again.

Melinda's voice echoes in her head saying, "…they were tortured."

Those women had significant others, children, families that missed them. She hopes they can find the psycho before he has a chance to destroy more lives by killing someone else.

Olivia gets out of the bathtub after her fingers are prune-like and she's relaxed enough for sleep. But before she calls it a night, she wants to thank him. She dries off, dons some of her favorite soft pajamas, wraps herself in a robe and grabs her phone.

"Hey," he answers on the third ring.

Olivia walks into her living room and opens her curtains.

"I didn't wake you did I," she asks, staring at his building.

"Liv it's barely ten o'clock and Kathy has Eli this weekend," he explains.

Olivia smiles at the thought of the previous nights' activities. She had never seen the man beg for anything, not even his own life. But last night…last night.

"I just called to thank you for dinner," she begins. "And dessert looks wonderful too, maybe I'll have it for breakfast," she adds, kidding. Though it'll probably be calling her name in the wee hours of the morning.

"So you're home then," he asks, walking into his living room. "You in bed yet?"

She steps closer to the large window, momentarily placing a hand against the chilled glass.

"In my living room looking at your building," she tells him. "I bet my apartment is better than yours," she says, jokingly. She still can't believe he's been just across the street.

Olivia hears his laugh and it's the best thing she's heard all day. It wouldn't hurt her to hear it more often.

"I'd invite you over to see it but it looks like you're already in your pajamas," he observes.

"You can see me?"

"Yep," he responds. "And you can see me too," he informs her, beginning to wave.

She laughs at how ridiculous he looks standing in his window waving at her like a maniac.

"Yeah I can," she says between giggles. "You can stop acting like your trying to land a 747 now," she tells him, holding her stomach from laughing so hard.

"Good," he tells her. "Cuz my arm is tired."

When they both stop laughing, Elliot turns the conversation to a more serious topic.

"So are we okay," he asks, placing his hand on the glass as if to touch her.

"Hey that's my line."

"Liv," he rasps, and she can feel it in her toes. "I never want to be the cause of that look on your face again."

She returns her hand to the glass.

"And I never want to _feel _that way again," she responds. "Especially not with you," she adds.

"All my cards are on the table now Liv," he tells her. "No more secrets, no more hiding from you," he promises. "It killed me to watch you hurting, feeling like I was just one more person that let you down."

She honestly believes Elliot's the _one_ person that could've helped her through the last year. But she understands his reasoning, foolish though it was for him to think she wouldn't have wanted him around.

"I forgive you baby," she says, feeling she truly means it. Olivia watches in amusement as he stands just that much closer to the window.

"You know I love when you call me that."

She can see him smiling from ear to ear from her position across the street. Olivia is well aware of how much he enjoys hearing that particular term of endearment.

"Yeah," she admits. "So you've told me."

"And as much as I want to _show_ you how much I like hearing it," he says, flirting. "I know what kind of day you must've had so I'll let you get some sleep."

Olivia's mind supplies crime scene photos of Tyler Branson's victims again and how they died. Despite the relaxing bath and making amends with Elliot, sleep may not find her as quickly as she would hope. She doesn't want to be alone tonight.

"Yeah it's been," she begins, all the sudden emotional.

"Hey," he says, noticing the change. "What's wrong?"

"I just," she tries again. "Can you come over," she asks. "I don't want-

"It's okay," he interrupts. "I know."

And he does. Elliot remembers what the cases can do to you. There were many times where hugging his kids or just being held by Kathy was the only way he got through after those days.

He remembers thinking about Olivia and wondering how she got through and whether or not she had someone to hold her. As he puts on a coat and some sneakers he knows he wants to be that for her. A refuge, a comfort.

Olivia watches as he crosses the street. When she knows he's made it she closes her curtain, sits on her sofa and waits. She told him to use his key.

Minutes later she hears him.

Elliot hangs his overcoat on a nearby hook, depositing his shoes at the door. He's already dressed in his pajamas, prepared for sleep.

"Liv," he calls out in the darkness.

She gets up and goes to him, seeking out his lips. It feels like much longer than this morning that Olivia's kissed him. She can feel Elliot's now clean shaven face beneath her finger tips, a contrast from last night's stubble.

Olivia takes his cheeks between her hands as Elliot's strong arms encircle her waist. He lets her set the pace believing she'll let him know what she needs. She struggles to keep it as a simple hello, barely managing to pull it off.

After her lips leave his she lays her head against his shoulder just holding on to him. Elliot begins rubbing soothing hands over her back and before he knows it, she's fallen asleep standing up.

He wakes her long enough to get her into bed, ditching his t-shirt and crawling in next to her. Olivia curls into his side, laying her head on his chest. Elliot puts an arm around her waist, rubbing her back again. Sleep claims her in a matter of minutes and he's not long to follow.

The dawning of the day doesn't bring any sunshine to Olivia's bedroom but instead a soft gray light reflecting a no doubt overcast sky on this winter morning. She's the first to open her eyes and she's in no hurry to move. Elliot is exactly what she needed...needs. He didn't question her about the case or probe her to discuss anything work related.

The need Olivia had for something or someone to make her smile, to remember how to enjoy simple things like a home cooked meal or being held because you're mentally and emotionally drained, seems to have been filled by Elliot.

He is the separation she needs from the often too dark world in which she works. Elliot has shown her she doesn't have to live there too. And it's all so ironic considering the fact that he trained her for the job.

She's trying not to depend on him, not to need him so much but he's making it too easy. If he ever disappears from her life again, twenty-one days will not be enough to put her back together.

They've shifted in their slumber. He is spooning behind her, arm hanging over her waist, legs entangled with her own. Olivia woke up because he was rubbing the skin of her abdomen with his thumb. It isn't the worst way she's been rousted from her sleep.

"Good morning," Elliot whispers into her neck.

His breath is warm on her skin where her hair has fallen out of the way. Olivia puts a hand over the one he has over her waist.

"Morning," she responds, pulling his arm further around her while backing into his body heat.

Elliot doesn't disappoint holding her tighter to him still, kissing down the length of her nape.

"Mmm," she moans, as his lips meet her skin. "You know what I'd really love right now?"

Elliot pushes Olivia onto her back, positioning himself between her legs suspended on his elbows.

"No, why don't you tell me," he says, lifting her camisole to place feather light kisses on her stomach.

Olivia has one arm folded behind her head, and the other is caressing the overnight stubble on his face.

"I'd really, really love," she draws out, just as Elliot lowers his mouth to her collar bone and onwards towards her neck. She breathes a sigh of contentment.

"What," he says, suckling on her pulse point while one hand is caressing the skin just below a breast.

"That chocolate torte right now," she tells him, unable to stop from snickering.

Olivia's glee is contagious as Elliot finds himself chuckling right along with her. He encourages it by tickling her sides until he sees tears coming out of her eyes. They both revel in the moment of hilarity. It doesn't happen nearly often enough.

"Okay, okay," she begs. "I give," she tells him.

He releases her reluctantly, rolling out of bed to look for his shirt.

"You can't eat that for breakfast Liv," he starts. "I'm going to make you something proper," he says, finding and pulling his shirt over his head.

"If cooking me breakfast brings you happiness then who am I to stop you," she says tongue in cheek, giving him a toothy grin.

She gets out of bed, headed for the bathroom to wash her face and brush her teeth. Elliot slaps her on the butt on her way in.

"Cuz that brings me happiness too," he tells her, returning her sarcasm. She just shakes her head at him as he continues out of her bedroom and into the kitchen.

Moments later she hears her front door open and close. Olivia assumes he's gone across the street to his apartment for the food. Lord knows she hasn't returned to a supermarket since she's gone back to work. Save for last night's leftovers, the contents of her refrigerator remain sparse.

Ten minutes later he's walking through her door with supplies.

"Whatcha got there," she asks from her view on the sofa. Olivia has curled into a corner to read the book she abandoned after returning to work.

"You'll find out," he says smirking as he enters her kitchen. He washes his hands then some vegetables, onions and mushrooms and begins slicing and dicing. He grates fresh cheese and retrieves margarine from the refrigerator.

She's taken to watching him openly now. When they were partners she wasn't afforded such a luxury. Olivia sees the muscles of his back through his shirt when he reaches into her cupboard for a bowl. She notices how his forearms flex when he's whisking the eggs. And she thanks the heavens for putting her pans in a lower cabinet when she catches a view of his ass while bending to retrieve a couple to cook in.

"See something you like," he asks, busting her for ogling him as he browns the filling for her Denver omelet.

Olivia puts down the paperback she wasn't reading anyway and saunters into the kitchen. She sits on the countertop opposite him, showing him just how little she cares about being busted.

"Yeah I do," she tells him, eying him like he's on the menu.

Elliot turns down the heat to the vegetables and chopped ham before turning to her. She wraps her legs around his waist, her arms around his neck before pulling him in for a kiss.

Olivia tastes him completely, sliding her tongue against his and roaming his mouth hungrily. She's kissing her way along his jaw and down his neck before snaking her hands beneath his shirt to feel his skin.

"You should let me feed you first," he warns. "If this is how we're gonna start the day," he adds. "You're going to need your energy."

Olivia places a playful bite on his neck before kissing it and letting him out of her grasp.

"Good girl," he says, smiling as he returns to the task of making her breakfast.

Ten minutes later they're sitting side by side at her counter enjoying the Denver omelets he's made. She moans at the taste, smiling around her fork like a kid eating birthday cake. Olivia must've been hungrier than she thought. She's halfway done in no time.

"You know if you keep cooking for me like this," she begins. "I'm gonna have to keep you around."

Elliot puts a hand against his chest, feigning like his feelings have just been hurt at her words.

"Is that all I'm good for," he says. "A hot meal," he asks, continuing the charade with phony emotion. "Just use a guy for his skills in the kitchen and cast him aside why don't you," he says pretending tears.

She chuckles at his joking. He's really good for her and she feels her heart making just that much more room for his.

"No baby," she begins. "I also want you for your body," she purrs. "So I have every intention of making full use of your skills in the bedroom again too," she adds, rubbing his thigh.

He looks her over slowly and deliberately, giving her the same predatory grin he gave her a couple of nights ago.

"You know I don't let just anyone use me," he says, getting up from his stool, spinning her around to face him. "But for you I've made an exception."

Elliot picks her up from her position and she wraps her legs around him as they head towards her bedroom.

"And why am I so lucky," she whispers into his ear before biting the lobe and sucking on it.

Elliot thinks initially it's because she does things like that to turn him on beyond belief. But that's not true.

"Because I," he begins, as he stops against a wall.

Her cell phone begins ringing in her bedroom.

"Hold that thought," she says, getting down to answer the phone. Elliot follows behind her.

Olivia knows that Fin and Rollins are the ones catching this weekend but it could be a break in the Branson case.

"Benson," says Amaro on the other end.

"Yeah," she answers, giving Elliot an apologetic look resting a hand against his chest.

"Alicia Johnson is missing," he advises her. "No one's seen her since her shift ended last night," he tells her.

**Dun, dun, dunnnnn….lol.**

**Hey if you think it's so nice, why not review it twice! Or just once…I'd love to know what you think.**


	9. Chapter 9

**Sorry it took so long to post this last chapter. Thanks for sticking around. And those of you that actually took time to review this story. I greatly appreciate it. **

Olivia walks into a crowded bullpen to find her coworkers gathered around a large monitor watching what seems to be footage of a parking lot.

"What happened to Alicia," she says, putting her belongings into a lower desk drawer.

Munch steps over to the video screen and points out what she missed on her way in to the station.

"Let me rewind it for you so that you get a clear picture," the elder detective tells her before pressing the play button.

Olivia watches the grainy black and white footage from the hospital garage security camera. She sees Alicia entering and walking to her vehicle before being accosted. The man, assumed to be Tyler Branson, pulls her into a van parked next to her car before driving off.

"He sucker punched her in the face," comments Amaro. "This prick knows we're closing in on him," he adds. "He has nothing to lose by killing her now."

Nick's face is a mask of guilt and anger at the situation.

"We couldn't have known he'd go after her," says Rollins, walking closer to Amaro. "Don't beat yourself up," she continues in a tone low enough for only him.

Olivia steps towards the footage, taking a closer look.

"Where'd the van come from," she asks the captain.

"Stole it from his job," Cragen responds. "They hadn't even noticed it was gone from their inventory until we contacted them about it," he tells her. "There's an APB already out."

A phone rings at one of the desks and Fin is quick to pick it up.

"SVU, Detective Tutuola," he answers.

He grabs a pen immediately, writing down the information being given to him by whoever is on the other end.

"Okay. Good, thanks," he tells them before hanging up.

"I hope that's a lead," comments the captain, anxious for some helpful information.

Fin tears off the little pink sheet of paper from the _WHILE YOU WERE OUT _notepad and hands it to his boss. Cragen takes one look at what's written down and knows immediately what has to be done.

"Everyone goes," he orders. "Branson's on Governor's Island," informs them. "His boat's been sighted at the Lima pier out there," he continues. "One of the many places at which he was _not_ paying a slip fee," he adds to assuage Amaro's guilt.

They all grab their jackets and coats, following the captain into the elevator.

"Toll cameras have him using an _EasyPass _on the Brooklyn Battery Tunnel but not at the next booth," he tells them. "He had to have stopped at that island," he explains.

They get off the elevator and pair off as they enter the garage. Fin is with Rollins, Amaro is with Benson and Munch is with Captain Cragen.

On the way Cragen is notified that Branson is most likely on the Southwest portion of the island where the abandoned U.S. Coastguard housing and service areas lay. He radios the detectives in the other cars to let them know.

"The Brooklyn piers are not that far from Governor's Island," comments Amaro. "We should've looked for his boat there too," he goes on. "Branson's had hours alone with her."

Olivia sits in the passenger seat looking over at her partner with his tight jaw and white knuckled driving. She remembers blaming herself many times for things she had no control over. As illogical as it is, she understands the inclination and the futility of it.

"There are a _million _places we could've looked," she begins. "But we aren't psychic and we don't have the manpower to be everywhere," she reasons. "We do our jobs the best way we know how and that's all we can do."

She sees his jaw relax and the grip he has on the steering wheel loosens just a bit. Olivia's learning when to be blunt and when to cut him a break. With Nick doing such a great job of kicking himself, she doesn't feel the need to help.

SWAT is already present on the island when the squad arrives. They've checked Branson's boat and neither he nor Alicia are present. But the condition of the living quarters leaves no question that it is the primary crime scene.

Olivia and Nick interrupt the crime scene unit as they're collecting evidence.

"The blood on these ropes test as human," informs Captain Siper, the CSU supervisor. "More than likely it's what he used to restrain them at some point."

Nick sees the disheveled bunk with the sheets spread messily on the bed. He also notices a five gallon sized metal bin sitting not far from it containing murky water.

"There's also various semen and blood stains found in the bunk, on the adjacent wall and the floor surrounding it."

Olivia takes in the condition of the cabin trying not to let her mind wonder as to the various horrors the victims were subjected to at the hands of Branson.

"Let's go," she says to Nick, turning to exit the state room. "We need to find this psychopath before he kills Alicia."

Nick turns to follow her up the steps and onto the deck of the boat.

"How do you know she isn't dead already," he asks as they step out onto the dock heading towards the staging area.

She stops abruptly turning to face him.

"He would've left her body on that boat," she begins, pointing at the vessel. "And he won't kill her quickly," she continues. "She has to suffer just like he did," she deadpans before heading towards their team again. "And until we know otherwise, we're going to assume she's still alive."

Amaro and Benson join their colleagues and the SWAT commander in a nearby industrial building. They've already cleared most of the old Coast Guard housing for signs of Branson and Alicia and are getting ready to breach the last.

One of the SWAT team members passes out Kevlar vests to the SVU team to wear just in case their suspect is armed.

"There are four floors," begins the SWAT commander. "Each of you will be with two SWAT members," he tells Benson, Amaro, Fin and Rollins. "That's three people to clear each floor," he explains.

They're also given ear wicks to stay in constant radio contact with one another. If Branson wants to make this his last day on Earth that's fine. But he will _not_ be taking any of New York's finest with him. Hopefully Alicia won't be collateral damage as they go after him.

"CSU also found protein, creatine and anabolic steroids," adds Capt. Cragen. "Him being in a roid rage could explain the damage to the other victims," he continues. "His cousin and mother confirm that he's gained at least twenty pounds of muscle since going to prison," he informs them. "No one should try and take this guy alone."

When they enter the building they do so quickly and quietly taking to the steps after clearing the lower floors' common areas. The place has a musty odor from years of not being used, dirty run down carpet and peeling wallpaper.

Olivia and her two SWAT members end up on the fourth floor, separating to scour the upper level. Her heart races as she moves, feeling her pulse pound away in her ears. Her eyes dart back in forth in front of her, trying to anticipate the slightest of movement and she tries to breathe evenly.

She holds her weapon steady in both hands, creeping along the corridor trying not to make anymore noise than she has to. Before she throws open each door she pauses to listen for extraneous sounds. Each time she clears a room her heart takes a timeout before it begins pounding again.

Olivia has but one room left to clear before her end of the floor is done. She enters the room and is immediately tackled by Tyler Branson. The gun is knocked out of her hand and flies across the room and out of her reach.

"Looking for me," he rasps, pulling her off the floor by her collar. He backhands her before punching her in the stomach, dropping her once again.

Olivia hears a muffled scream coming from somewhere in the room. As she turns her head towards the noise, she spots Alicia huddled in a corner with her knees to her chest. She's gagged, bound with rope at the wrists and ankles and naked. Her lip and nose are bloodied, mascara streaks run down her face from crying and her body is covered in bruises.

"It's over Branson," Olivia says, standing up gingerly. "This place is swarming with cops," she informs him. "You're not going anywhere."

She's thinking the SWAT guys should be behind her at any moment. Hopefully Olivia can stall him long enough for them to get there.

"Oh I'm going somewhere alright," he says picking up her gun. "And it's not back to that hell hole of a prison!"

Olivia stands with her hands up as he points the gun at her careful to make any sudden movements. She doesn't want the unstable man to mistake anything she does as threatening.

"Why don't you put the gun down Tyler and we can walk out of here together," she offers changing tactics. "No one else has to get hurt."

On the other side of the door her SWAT partner has heard the situation inside the room. He radios the commander, tells him what's going on and is told a sniper will be put into place.

Olivia has heard all of this in the clear earpiece that she still wears. It's hidden by her long hair and Tyler has yet to notice it. She can hear the SWAT commander letting her know the sniper will be in place in two minutes and will take the first available shot through the window.

The problem? She's the one standing in front of it. Olivia has to get Branson in place to be taken down.

He begins walking back and forth waving the gun erratically appearing agitated. She has to figure out some way to get him to listen long enough to move him in the line of fire.

"I'm not walking out with you," he yells. "I'm not going back to prison!"

"Alicia looks hurt Tyler," she tries calmly, hoping her tone of voice will cause him to follow suit. "Can I at least check on her?"

"Screw her! She's the reason I'm in this whole mess!

"And you've punished her for it Tyler, look at her," Olivia tells him. "At least let me cover her, please."

Though his eyes are wild and his breaths are still coming rapidly, he looks at Alicia and Olivia sees a hint of remorse in his eyes. It's her opening.

"You guys used to get along Tyler. You worked with her, took smoke breaks with her, ate lunch with her," she continues. "She knows she made a mistake turning you in Tyler and I'm sure she's sorry."

She can see Alicia nodding her agreement in her peripheral vision.

"See Tyler, she's really sorry," she continues. "Just please let me cover her up," Olivia adds, slowly peeling off the navy blue NYPD windbreaker as she backs up towards Alicia.

"Fine, do it," he says. "But if you try anything I'll shoot you," he adds aiming the weapon at her once again.

As soon as Olivia squats down to place the jacket over her, a red dot appears on Tyler's chest just before a sniper's bullet crashes through the window breaking it, raining glass all over the floor.

"Suspect is down, I repeat suspect is down," Olivia hears the sharp shooter's words in her earpiece.

The door is breached seconds later as the rest of the SWAT team rushes in along with Amaro, Fin and Rollins. Branson lays on the floor unmoving. Dead.

Olivia borrows someone's knife to cut Alicia's restraints. She falls into her trembling and sobbing uncontrollably not caring about her state of undress. The detective sees her jacket isn't covering enough so she rips a dangling curtain from one of the windows and wraps it around the tall woman.

Two gurneys are brought in from waiting ambulances. One takes their suspect's body to the morgue, the other takes Alicia to the hospital. Someone will take her statement after she wakes up from sedation. She was raped, beaten and tormented by Tyler Branson for the last ten or so hours. It may be quite some time before she's coherent enough to give one.

CSU comes in to process the scene and Olivia's gun is tagged and bagged as evidence and will be returned to her after it's processed.

She's in no hurry this time. She just may tell them that they can keep it and take her badge along with it. Hostage situations tend to give you that type of " to hell with it all" attitude.

By the time they clear out of the old Coast Guard quarters news vans have arrived on the island and are reporting on the story of the serial killer, the hostage situation and his fatal ending.

After Captain Cragen and the rest of the squad thanks the SWAT members for their help, it's a quiet ride back to the precinct.

They all walk in and take their desks quietly, beginning reports on each of their roles on the island today.

The captain goes into his office to handle the usual logistics behind a closed door. He has to field calls from 1PP and the press, each wanting to know details of how and why Tyler Branson wasn't able to be brought in in something other than a body bag.

Several hours later he steps out of his office.

"Olivia," he says simply as he gestures for her to join him.

Once inside she closes the door behind herself and takes a seat in a chair in front of his desk.

"I know the drill captain," she tells him as he takes a seat behind his desk. "I'm on desk duty for a couple of days until CSU's finished with my weapon. But-

"And," he begins. "I'm suggesting that you take some time as well."

"Captain-

"I know that you've recently come back but I was going to recommend a vacation even before you were shot," he tells her. "Being on medical leave isn't the same as actually relaxing yourself."

"Captain-

"And with seeing the state Alicia Johnson was in, watching Branson getting shot and being in yet _another_ hostage situation-

"I agree Captain," she nearly yells, unable to get a word in edgewise.

"You need-what?"

"I said, I agree. I need a time out, a step back, an actual vacation from this job."

Don raises his eyebrows and widens his eyes like she just told him that unicorns are giving free rides in Central Park and that leprechauns are handed out gold at the Children's Museum of Manhattan . He opens and closes his mouth a couple of times, speechless.

"I've typed up my fives on this case and I think Alicia's comfortable enough with Amaro to let him take her statement when she feels up to giving one."

"Okay," he manages. "How long do you think you'll need?"

Olivia's been thinking about it since she handed a traumatized Alicia over to an understanding paramedic.

"I have fifty or sixty weeks of vacation on the books," she begins, nearly giving her supervisor a heart attack with the expression on his face. It's hard for her not to laugh at it. "But I'm only going to take three."

"I think we can survive without you for that long," he tells her with a knowing smile. Though the two new detectives have started off well and Munch and Fin have their own styles, there is but one Olivia Benson. He's already lost one good detective to this job so he'll gladly do without her for a few weeks.

As she stands to leave, so does he.

"Enjoy yourself Olivia. You deserve it."

"Thanks Captain."

Olivia walks out to her desk, prints out her reports, signs them and gives them to Rollins asking her to hand them in with her own.

Under the curious eyes of her coworkers she shuts down her computer, gathers her things from her lower desk drawer and heads out.

"Good night," she tells them as she walks to the elevators.

It's one o'clock in the afternoon and she's done for the day, for the next twenty-one days actually. But at the moment she has but one thing, one destination, and one person on her mind.

When she gets to his building she takes the stairs two at a time until she makes it to the fourth floor. There's nothing like a little brush with death to make you appreciate the important things in life.

She barely raises her hand for a second knock before the door is flung open and Elliot pulls her inside.

He tugs her against him so tightly she feels he may break a rib or two. It's good to have someone worry about her and she loves having someone to go to after a day like she's had. Olivia's smiling like an idiot at the fact until she realizes just how upset he is.

"I saw the news," he rasps in her hair. "If anything had happened to you-

"But nothing happened," she says cutting him off. "I'm right here El. I'm okay," she adds rubbing his back.

He pulls back to look at her, taking her face in both hands as she lowers her arms to his waist.

"There's something I've wanted to tell you," he begins. "But I don't want you to think I'm saying it because of what happened today."

"I won't El. What is it?"

He takes a cleansing breath, momentarily closing his eyes before focusing in on her patient expression.

"Liv," he begins. "The reason I'm so glad you're here right now, the reason why I happily let you take advantage of my _many_ talents," he says smirking before continuing more seriously. "And the reason you're my favorite ex-partner is because…you're the one I fell in love with."

Her eyes get big before they return to normal with her smile. She leans in to capture his lips, pulling him so that their bodies are flush against one another. It's a slow but simple kiss she lays on him before pulling back.

"If it's too soon-

She cuts him off mid sentence with another kiss. It's just as slow but this time it's deeper. Olivia moves her lips against his, delving into his mouth to taste him before ending the kiss with a warm suckling of his lower lip.

"It's not too soon," she tells him smiling as she pulls back again. She moves a hand from his waist to wipe away traces of lipstick with her thumb. Olivia drops her hand to his chest, placing it over his heart. She can feel it thumping beneath the thin cotton t-shirt he wears.

"I love you too," she says in a near whisper. She hasn't said those words to anyone in such a long time it sounds nearly foreign to her ears. But it feels absolutely natural that it's directed towards him.

Elliot smiles like he's won the lottery before capturing her lips this time. He wants to keep it simple but he's just so damned happy she's still alive and returning his feelings. He threads his hands through her hair, kissing her in an all consuming type of way until they run out of breath.

"I'm really glad you're okay," he says leaning his forehead against hers momentarily before letting her go.

"Me too El," she says as he leads her by the hand towards his sofa. Olivia thinks back to being shot a couple of months ago and how she was upset that no one knows her well enough to plan her funeral how'd she'd want it. "But can I ask you a question?"

"Anything," he responds, putting an arm around her shoulders as she leans into him.

"What if I wasn't," she begins. "What if I hadn't made it out today?"

"I don't wanna think about that," he says kissing the side of her head. "I just want to enjoy the fact that you did."

"Seriously El," she tells him. "I don't wanna ruin the mood here but considering what line of work I'm in, I need to know things would be taken care of."

Elliot takes a calming breath and extracts himself from her, entering the kitchen to start some coffee. Olivia knows the question has upset him and he needs time to think.

She takes the time to look around his apartment. It's tastefully decorated in contemporary furnishings. The sofa she's sitting on is comfortable brown leather. Unlike her carpeted floors, his are hardwood. His kitchen is larger than hers with an island, marble countertops and stainless steel appliances.

There's a plasma television on the exposed brick wall above a small fireplace and the mantel below it has multiple picture frames depicting his children and them at a couple of police functions.

While the living room is in warm colors of beiges, browns and dark reds the kitchen has lighter shades of greens and vanillas. If she's not mistaken the apartment is definitely bigger than hers and obviously nicer.

She knows whose moving in with whom when it comes down to it. Olivia's surprised that the thought doesn't terrify her as a commitment like that usually would.

Elliot returns to the living room with two mugs of coffee in hand. He gives one to her and she takes a sip before sitting on the table in front of them. Elliot does the same.

"NYPD would give you the full funeral, being the decorated officer that you are," he begins, slightly disappointing her. "But…after all the hoopla died down," he continues taking one of her hands. "I'd make sure you had a small memorial service with only the people you're closest to, you'd be buried next to your mom and I'd have Asian Lilies laid at the gravesite."

Olivia lays a hand against his jaw before leaning in and placing a short kiss to his lips. Those are her favorite flowers.

"Thank you," she says quietly. "I know how difficult that must've been."

"You have to know I'd do anything for you Liv but can we please talk about something else now?"

"Sure," she tells him reaching for her mug again. "I have good news actually. As of today I'm on vacation for three weeks."

Elliot smiles mischievously while turning her so that her legs are in his lap. He removes her shoes and begins massaging her feet. Olivia sits her coffee down again, reclining so that she's lying against his sofa pillows.

"I think I can help with at least two of those three weeks," he tells her as he kneads the bottom of one foot garnering a moan from her.

"If you can just do _that_ for the rest of my vacation I'd be a very happy woman," she says with her eyes closed.

"So then you don't wanna go to the Bahamas with me?"

Her eyes pop open instantly.

"Come again?"

"About three months ago yours truly won an all expenses paid trip for two to the islands from a sports trivia show on the radio," he reveals. "They're good for a year but I didn't have anyone to go with."

"And you wanna take me?" she asks sitting up again.

"Just about every ten minutes," he says flirting and garnering a raised eyebrow from Olivia. "But if you mean to the Bahamas then yes, I'd love for you to go with me."

"Well let's see," she says straddling his lap. "My choices are spending the majority of my vacation here in the winter cold of New York City or flying to the tropical warmth of the islands. Tough choice but I think I'll choose the Bahamas."

"Yeah?" he asks grinning.

"Yeah," she answers, wrapping her arms around his neck. Olivia leans in to place warm open mouthed kisses along what she can see of his shoulder and up his neck until she's nibbling on his ear lobe.

"Liv?"

"Yes baby," she responds, pausing momentarily before continuing her ministrations.

"I need you to know something."

Olivia recognizes the tone as one that's serious and stops what she's doing. She leans back giving him her full attention.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing-I," he stutters.

"Come on El, why are so shy all the sudden?"

"I haven't felt this way since-well I've never felt this way about anyone but I know how independent you are and I don't wanna scare you away with how much I want this."

"I'm sitting in your lap, I can tell."

"I'm serious Liv. I don't mean I want you just for today or over your vacation. Next to my kids you're the most important person in my life. So when I say I want this…I mean it, no run-

She kisses him then. For the first time in her life she doesn't want to run, doesn't want to come up with excuses as to why they won't work out. Olivia spent twelve years of her life with Elliot. She's more comfortable with him than any other person on the planet.

"In case you didn't hear me the first time, I'm in love with you," she says smoothing her thumbs against his stubble. "And as huge of a commitment-phobic person as I usually am, surprisingly it doesn't terrify me to admit that. I'm more scared of being _without _you than being with you and that's never happened to me before. So you don't have to worry about me going anywhere because I want this too."

Elliot gets up abruptly causing Olivia to shriek. She wraps her legs around his waist instinctively so she doesn't fall backwards. Not that he wouldn't catch her.

"Would you like that tour now?"

"Only if we can start in the bedroom," she whispers in his ear before grinding against him.

"You my friend are one naughty detective," he tells her trying to walk with her around him and not bump into anything.

"Baby, you ain't seen nothing yet."

It won't be hearts and flowers all the time. They'll argue just as they always have but she knows he's not going anywhere. With him she's found her smile again, she got her reboot. He takes care of her, consoles her, loves her.

With all the time they spent together at work so many people speculated that they were more than just colleagues or friends, that they had been having an affair for years. She's glad they were wrong. It would've ruined them.

Olivia knew she loved her partner. With all they'd experienced together and helped one another through, she would have to have been made of ice not to.

But she knows without a doubt she wasn't _in love _with him.

It wasn't until _after_ he tucked her in that first night. It wasn't until _after_ he poured his heart out to her as he'd never done in asking permission back into her life. It wasn't until _after_ he simply held her without question because of a case that was breaking her heart.

_After_ he expressed the patience, tenderness and compassion she knew him capable of and it was directed at her, she knew. Olivia didn't fall in love with her partner during twelve years together on the job.

She fell in love with her best friend _outside_ of it. In three weeks.


End file.
